Tonight's picture was taken in November of 2007. We took Mattie for a walk on Roosevelt Island and one of his favorite trees there was the crinkly hedge apple. They produce a fruit that looks like a human brain. Mattie was holding one in his hand. I believe this tree also has another name like the Osage Orange tree, which is a fitting name for it because when you split open this large fruit it smells like citrus! This happens to be one of my favorite photos of Mattie.
Quote of the day: When I look at my old pictures, all I can see is what I used to be but am no longer. I think: What I can see is what I am not. ~ Aleksandar Hemon
To all our readers who contacted me about the Fox 5 interview, I thank you!!! I really appreciated your feedback about the candy drive coverage and I am grateful for your thoughtful words.
Tonight's quote caught my attention when I saw it. Recently I saw several photos of my friend in cancer who lost her son in June. The photos were of her with her son. When her son was alive and healthy. Needless to say when I saw these photos I IMMEDIATELY noticed the difference in my friend's smile and the glimmer in her eyes. It was so evident to me the profound impact the death of a child has on one's mind, body, and spirit. The death of a child burns away who we are down to the core. Surviving such a loss requires rebuilding of grand proportion, not unlike how a fire ravages a house. In order to inhabit the house again it has to be completely overhauled. However, overhauling a thing such as a house is a whole lot easier than the emotional devastation that remains for a bereaved parent.
The observation in my friend is not far off base from myself. Naturally I have four years on her, and I have had more time to process the loss of an only child. Yet for Peter and I, we may smile, we may carry on, but we don't look the same. The smiles in our photos between when Mattie was alive and now are VERY different.
Today I had the opportunity to meet my friend for coffee. She and I get together every other month to chat about all sorts of things. Naturally the conversation of holidays came up. She is very sensitive to how holidays impact me and she even admitted feeling guilty at this time of year because she knows what she has (children) and what so many of us are missing. I told her she can't feel guilty about this, and none of us who lost a child would want her to feel this way either. Nonetheless, as I admitted to her, I purposefully remove myself from Washington, DC during the holiday season because I can't take hearing about holiday parties, Christmas gifts, Santa, activities with children, and the list goes on. I also am quite cognizant that I make other parents jumpy. So it is a double edged sword. It is sad however that I feel I need to escape my surroundings because I do not feel comfortable, welcomed, or a part of mainstream society.
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