Monday, April 21, 2014
Tonight's picture was taken in April of 2009. We took Mattie for a walk near our home. One of the wonderful things about April, besides being Mattie's birthday month, is it is a month in which there is a wonderful display of azaleas. In fact, I used to tell Mattie that the azaleas were blooming in honor of his birthday. Which Mattie got a kick out of!
Quote of the day: It's really going to happen. I really won't ever go back to school. Not ever. I'll never be famous or leave anything worthwhile behind. I'll never go to college or have a job. I won't see my brother grow up. I won't travel, never earn money, never drive, never fall in love or leave home or get my own house. It's really, really true. A thought stabs up, growing from my toes and ripping through me, until it stifles everything else and becomes the only thing I'm thinking. It fills me up like a silent scream. ~ Jenny Downham
Tonight's quote, comes from the novel, Before I Die, which seems to give us an insightful glimmer into just how tragic a realization it is for a teen to realize that her life's journey is ending. That she will not be able to go to college, have a job, leave home, get a house or basically grow up and become an adult. This won't be happening because her body is being ravaged by cancer. How does this news affect a developing mind? I can't even imagine, because I can hardly understand or accept what I know as a mature adult.
I had the opportunity to have lunch with my friend Junko today. As my faithful readers know, Junko is one of the first people I met at Mattie's elementary school, and in fact, our boys became instantaneous friends. When Mattie was battling cancer, Junko would visit me often, and is the person who created origami praying cranes for Mattie. Two sets in fact. One that hung on Mattie's IV pole and another which was comprised of 1000 origami cranes that always hung over Mattie's hospital bed. These cranes came with us on EVERY hospital admission and discharge and to this day they remain hanging from the ceiling in Mattie's bedroom (as you can see!). Junko and I are both well aware of the impact of cancer on a life, and how this changes family dynamics. But we reflected on the recent losses we have additionally experienced within the last month or so, and the realization of how these deaths have altered the lives of their loved ones was almost too much for us to bear. Mainly because we have the insight into how this will look maybe not right now, but days, weeks, or years from now. It left us feeling and questioning why some people are given more than seems tolerable or bearable? Of course we have no answers to any of this but I do think our own experiences with loss give us much greater insights into how to cope, manage, and assist others with grief and loss.
This week will be my last kindergarten session with the children. Tomorrow I will go to the classroom and set up for Wednesday. Wednesday's class is a bit more intricate, so things definitely need to be prepared and ready to go the night before! It is hard to believe two sessions have gone by already, I just feel so busy with life moving 100 miles an hour. Not a pace I enjoy moving at, nor do I enjoy processing anything at this speed, and over all it makes me take stock at what has to be done differently moving forward into the future. Since this trajectory is neither healthy or sustainable.
Tonight's picture was taken in April of 2009. We took Mattie for a walk near our home. One of the wonderful things about April, besides being Mattie's birthday month, is it is a month in which there is a wonderful display of azaleas. In fact, I used to tell Mattie that the azaleas were blooming in honor of his birthday. Which Mattie got a kick out of!
Quote of the day: It's really going to happen. I really won't ever go back to school. Not ever. I'll never be famous or leave anything worthwhile behind. I'll never go to college or have a job. I won't see my brother grow up. I won't travel, never earn money, never drive, never fall in love or leave home or get my own house. It's really, really true. A thought stabs up, growing from my toes and ripping through me, until it stifles everything else and becomes the only thing I'm thinking. It fills me up like a silent scream. ~ Jenny Downham
Tonight's quote, comes from the novel, Before I Die, which seems to give us an insightful glimmer into just how tragic a realization it is for a teen to realize that her life's journey is ending. That she will not be able to go to college, have a job, leave home, get a house or basically grow up and become an adult. This won't be happening because her body is being ravaged by cancer. How does this news affect a developing mind? I can't even imagine, because I can hardly understand or accept what I know as a mature adult.
I had the opportunity to have lunch with my friend Junko today. As my faithful readers know, Junko is one of the first people I met at Mattie's elementary school, and in fact, our boys became instantaneous friends. When Mattie was battling cancer, Junko would visit me often, and is the person who created origami praying cranes for Mattie. Two sets in fact. One that hung on Mattie's IV pole and another which was comprised of 1000 origami cranes that always hung over Mattie's hospital bed. These cranes came with us on EVERY hospital admission and discharge and to this day they remain hanging from the ceiling in Mattie's bedroom (as you can see!). Junko and I are both well aware of the impact of cancer on a life, and how this changes family dynamics. But we reflected on the recent losses we have additionally experienced within the last month or so, and the realization of how these deaths have altered the lives of their loved ones was almost too much for us to bear. Mainly because we have the insight into how this will look maybe not right now, but days, weeks, or years from now. It left us feeling and questioning why some people are given more than seems tolerable or bearable? Of course we have no answers to any of this but I do think our own experiences with loss give us much greater insights into how to cope, manage, and assist others with grief and loss.
This week will be my last kindergarten session with the children. Tomorrow I will go to the classroom and set up for Wednesday. Wednesday's class is a bit more intricate, so things definitely need to be prepared and ready to go the night before! It is hard to believe two sessions have gone by already, I just feel so busy with life moving 100 miles an hour. Not a pace I enjoy moving at, nor do I enjoy processing anything at this speed, and over all it makes me take stock at what has to be done differently moving forward into the future. Since this trajectory is neither healthy or sustainable.
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