Tonight's picture was taken in December of 2004. Mattie was two and half years old and had a solid understanding of what Christmas was about! He was excited about decorating and also intrigued by the gifts that seemed to be coming in and out of our home. In fact under our staircase was a packing box that arrived from Mattie's grandparents in Boston. Both Mattie and Patches wanted access to this box. Patches kept rubbing against the box and if Mattie could have opened it he would have tried!
Quote of the day: Sharing tales of those we've lost is how we keep from really losing them. ~ Mitch Albom
Over the past two days, Peter and I have had two very different social experiences. On Friday, we both attended Peter's office holiday party and today we had a brief meeting with a dad whose daughter has been battling cancer for six years. We met this dad when Mattie was diagnosed with cancer. His daughter was diagnosed around the same time as Mattie. We have known this family ever since. Today we dropped off the last 10 Ziploc bags full of candy to this wonderful family who will be transporting the candy for us to Johns Hopkins Medical Center in Baltimore.
I mention these two different social encounters because it highlights the two stark contrasts in which we live! Ironically operating within the normal world can be more problematic and uncomfortable for us and at times the comments and insensitivities that come out of the mouths of parents who have healthy children do floor me at times. Especially when they do not seem to care that they are talking to Peter and I..... two people who have lost an only child....and their complaints center around having to BE A PARENT. Yet I know everything is relative. Parents need an outlet to vent and to be heard and yet those of us who no longer have children also need an outlet. From Mattie's death, I have gained the perspective that children are not a guarantee and they might not last forever, so you need to appreciate every moment and make it meaningful.
After visiting with this dad today, it was as if we were brought right back in time. We remembered Mattie's battle. The chaos of our lives, the fear, the anxiety, living life on the edge, minute by minute, and how everything else around us just did not seem to matter. When I think about the stresses and fears of all of us who have a child diagnosed with cancer, I realize we practically live on another planet in comparison to everyone else in the world. We try to explain what we are thinking and feeling and what the disease does to our children and to us, but somehow these are ONLY words. Words just can't do the devastation justice.
The day is celebrated with a quiet elegance: at 7 pm, people light candles for one hour to remember their loved ones. It
is a moving occasion that bypasses geographical and cultural divides. As
everyone lights their candles at 7 pm local time, far-flung parts of the
world get illumined in turn, so that eventually the light has moved all around.
While this day first began in 1997 as a small remembrance,
it has since spread world-wide, creating hope and unity for those whose
children are no longer with them. Whether lighting a candle at home, or joining a gathering,
it is a way to show love and community!
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