Mattie Miracle 10th Anniversary Walk was an $119,000 success!

Mattie Miracle Cancer Foundation Promotional Video

Thank you for keeping Mattie's memory alive!

Dear Mattie Blog Readers,

It means a great deal to us that you take the time to write to us and to share your thoughts, feelings, and reflections on Mattie's battle and death. Your messages are very meaningful to us and help support us through very challenging times. To you we are forever grateful. As my readers know, I promised to write the blog for a year after Mattie's death, which would mean that I could technically stop writing on September 9, 2010. However, at the moment, I feel like our journey with grief still needs to be processed and fortunately I have a willing support network still committed to reading. Therefore, the blog continues on. If I should find the need to stop writing, I assure you I will give you advanced notice. In the mean time, thank you for reading, thank you for having the courage to share this journey with us, and most importantly thank you for keeping Mattie's memory alive.


As Mattie would say, Ooga Booga (meaning, I LOVE YOU)! Vicki and Peter



The Mattie Miracle Cancer Foundation celebrates its 7th anniversary!

The Mattie Miracle Cancer Foundation was created in the honor of Mattie.

We are a 501(c)(3) Public Charity. We are dedicated to increasing childhood cancer awareness, education, advocacy, research and psychosocial support services to children, their families and medical personnel. Children and their families will be supported throughout the cancer treatment journey, to ensure access to quality psychosocial and mental health care, and to enable children to cope with cancer so they can lead happy and productive lives. Please visit the website at: www.mattiemiracle.com and take some time to explore the site.

We have only gotten this far because of people like yourself, who have supported us through thick and thin. So thank you for your continued support and caring, and remember:

.... Let's Make the Miracle Happen and Stomp Out Childhood Cancer!

A Remembrance Video of Mattie

March 14, 2014

Friday, March 14, 2014

Friday, March 14, 2014 

Tonight's picture was taken in March of 2009. Sitting next to Mattie was his best friend from preschool, Zachary. Mattie and Zachary were inseparable in school and in fact if you believe in friendship at first sight, then I would say this described their relationship. Zachary was a loyal friend to Mattie until the very end, he would visit Mattie at home and in the hospital and he did not seem bothered by the tubes, IV bumps, and other daunting pieces of equipment that surrounded Mattie at the hospital. A true friend, because I assure you they did scare the average child! Mattie and Zachary had a very active friendship when Mattie was healthy, yet with cancer, Mattie could no longer move around and run. Zachary accommodated and met Mattie on his terms. As you can see they built and constructed a Lego item together that day in the hospital. Legos served multiple roles for us from toys, tools of therapy, a form of escape, and a way to bond and communicate!

Quote of the day: Have you ever lost someone you love and wanted one more conversation, one more chance to make up for the time when you thought they would be here forever? If so, then you know you can go your whole life collecting days, and none will outweigh the one you wish you had back.Mitch Albom



I began my day with a licensure board meeting. I can not even recall how long I have served on the DC counselor licensure board, but it has been over 14 years. It is something that I still love to do and I find it very stimulating and energizing. The board not only creates law, but it enforces it, and regulates the profession in the District of Columbia. As usual, today's meeting did not disappoint!

After the meeting, I had the opportunity to meet with two of my friends for lunch. I really appreciated meeting with both of them, because it caused me to stop moving and to eat. If I stop moving and food is put in front of me, I will eat. But if I am on my own, chances are, I will just lose interest in eating and continue working. Which doesn't do wonders for my headaches. While at lunch today, something that was said, made me reflect on funerals and what they now mean to me. 

I remember going to my first funeral when I was about 11 years old. Coming from a Catholic, Italian background, wakes were popular. Meaning, open casket, and viewing of a dead body. I would have to say the image of my paternal grandmother at the wake still remains with me today. But having an early and direct experience with death, did not cloud my feelings about funerals. That however changed when Mattie died. I remember in my early married life, I would hear my father in law say that flowers are for the living. I made note of it, but did not pay much more attention to it than that. Now, after some reflection, my father in law's casual statement makes much more sense to me. The time to connect, bond, and acknowledge someone's life is not at their funeral. It is when they are living. I get the richer meaning of what he is saying now. 

I searched the internet today, because I am simply curious as to whether parents who lost a child to cancer are transformed by this loss so much so that they no longer wish to attend funerals. Any funerals. I found nothing out there that even touches upon my theory. That isn't to say there isn't merit to what I am saying, it just isn't written about. But I can't be the only one who feels like this, maybe I am the only one who is verbalizing it. Now that wouldn't surprise me! After all, how politically correct is it to say..... I don't want to go to a funeral? I don't want to see a coffin, hear church music, watch people mourn, and the list goes on!!! But unfortunately this list is very real for parents who lost a child. Actually I feel like I carry plenty of my own grief around with me, that I just don't want to see it at a funeral. So I would have to say that venturing tonight to Boston to attend a funeral tomorrow has major ramifications for Peter and I. I am signing off for today. The next time I write to you will be tomorrow night, when I will have returned from Boston. 

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