Tonight's picture was taken in December of 2003. We took Mattie to Travel Town in Griffith Park, Los Angeles. This was one of his favorite places. It was a park filled with historic trains. It is a museum but it is very hands on and kids are allowed onto the trains and they can experience them, hear their whistles, walk on the tracks (as you can see here!!!) and run around. It was a place (http://www.traveltown.org/index.shtml) we visited each time we went out to visit my parents. The irony was prior to Mattie coming into my life I wasn't that big of a train fan, but after having Mattie, I became interested in trains, cars, and all things that had movement. These were things that he loved and therefore what Mattie loved, grew on me.
Quote of the day: Promise me you’ll always remember: You’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. ~ A. A. Milne
During certain points in our grief journey, Peter and I realize we have to assess how things are going and what we could do to help manage ourselves as we try to cope with Mattie's loss, a loss that is forever constant. In a way, the strategies we use come and go, and then seem to repeat over again in a never ending cycle. Such strategies include allowing certain people into our lives to socialize with us, and then shutting them out to protect ourselves. We have come to the conclusion we have to do what we have to do at times in order to be able to be survive and to be able to function. Yet I have noticed one thing with time.... isolating myself from others does not make me happy either and can in a way further set me off. So by protecting myself, I land up making things much worse.
Peter is always commenting that he feels like he lives another life when he goes into the professional world. Having children is the norm, so when people innocently ask Peter, "Do you have kids?" Peter has to choose if it is worth the effort and the person to actually tell the truth. Peter always says it is yet another form of alienation and isolation.... alienation in that he no longer fits the "norm" of what is typically expected and experienced in life, and isolation in that once the differences are identified, the differences become amplified and leave one to feel even more by themselves than before.
Today I did something I hadn't done in years. I went with my friend to the mall and we walked around, discussed her daughter's scavenger hunt birthday party at the mall and just shopped. Of course we both know quite well our own losses and can bring them up at times, but something compelled me the other day to just say...... this is something that I wanted to resume doing. This was something I had been involved with before in my friend's life and then I shut it out completely. It is hard because my friend's daughter is Mattie's age, they went to school together and of course when I see her daughter, I can't help but wonder about Mattie. Why did he get cancer? Why isn't he turning 13 this coming year? I of course do not have answers to any of this? Some how in time I need to find a way to manage my feelings about Mattie's death while at the same time understand and be happy for my friends who have developing children. Of course from a very logical and theoretical sense I can be very rational and happy, but I am also human and very emotional. As such, it is hard at times not to see what I don't have and what my life is missing. It is hard not to feel hurt and jealous. Yet I am aware of all these thoughts and feelings and I figure that is the first step.
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