Tonight's picture was taken in June of 2005. This was what our deck used to look like.... filled with Mattie's toys and the occasional kiddie pool. This was Mattie's first pool that he received from Peter's parents. But I would have to say we went through at least three or four pools and every year they seemed to only have gotten larger. One year, the pool took up half of our deck! But it was an activity Mattie enjoyed and so I looked past the inconvenience. It wasn't as if Mattie liked to swim. What he loved was throwing his cars, trucks, and trains in the pool and making up play schemes with water and his vehicles.
Quote of the day: How did it get so late so soon? ~ Dr. Seuss
I love Dr. Seuss' quote tonight because somehow it relates to the kind of day I had. In many ways it was like I did not exist today, because I did not interact with the outside world at all! I was busy with laundry and a complete focus on writing Mattie Miracle's June newsletter. Fortunately Peter took Sunny with him to work today, which gave me more concentrated time. But without Sunny, my life is a blur. Which is one of the reasons I really wanted a dog. Sunny requires me to move, walk, and get outside. Without him, my reality looks a bit different. Even with all the concentrated time today, I did not finish the newsletter. It isn't like I just write it and it's done! I have to organize photos, organize walk facts, and then on top of that deal with computer issues. When electronics are involved, nothing just runs smoothly. I spent more time creating and re-creating things in order for them to visually look appealing on the electronic newsletter platform. Needless to say, I am WIPED out from looking at a computer screen. But I have more in store for me tomorrow, until this newsletter gets done.
One of my friends in cancer today wrote to me, and asked me whether I feel like each day is a repeat of the day before!? That is actually an astute comment, because I would DEFINITELY say YES. That maybe how a good chunk of people feel on a regular basis anyway, because we all get into ruts. Therefore our routines can wear us down and we feel almost like we repeat the same pattern from the day before.
When you lose an only child to cancer, you are not just in a rut. You have instead fallen into a deep hole and have nothing to really serve as a benchmark or time point for you anymore. When you have a child, you have to keep your days of the week straight. You have to know what month it is, and when in doubt your child's schedule of school and activities will drill it into you. Losing a child, doesn't only mean a loss of a future, but it always means that you lose your internal time clock. While I see my friends with children progressing on and doing things...... vacations, graduations, religious ceremonies etc, for me life remains constantly the same. As if I am trapped in time, a time warp. For me, Mattie is always 7, I remain the same age, and I typically am confused about what day of the week it is. This reality can make you feel rather disengaged and disconnect. But when my friend mentioned this to me today, as she was checking in on her own feelings, her verbalization made me pause because clearly...... It's NOT just a Vicki issue! It's an issue for bereaved parents period!
1 comment:
Vicki, there is literally no comment to the realization, that life without Mattie and life for other bereaved parents whose child died, is continual " Groundhog Day. ". You're right, we all get into ruts, some with deep crevices. But the rut of child loss can not be filled because there is nothing that important, a parent can use! Even though I don't know the feeling, the fact of this reality is so sad. I am sorry, forever!
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