Tonight's picture was taken in June of 2009, as Mattie was recovering from his sternotomy, to remove nine tumors in his lungs. There were times during Mattie's treatment when he just wanted to go outside and get fresh air. So literally taking him to the hospital rose garden was a production with IV's, oxygen, a wheelchair and nurses in tow. The nurse on the left in this photo is Miki. In fact, I just ran into Miki this week while pushing the Mattie Miracle snack cart at the Hospital. Miki is one of Mattie's memory keepers and she understood the importance for Mattie, Peter, and me to get out of the hospital and have a change of scenery when possible. It naturally took these nurses off the unit and they had to balance their other duties, but they are amazing women, who accomplish the impossible to help their little patients.
Quote of the day: The dead leave their shadows, an echo of the space within which once they lived. They haunt us, never fading or growing older as we do. The loss we grieve is not just their futures but our own. ~ Kate Mosse
Why is it when someone dies, our friends and family may pause for a brief moment to acknowledge the loss, but then as a few weeks go by we are expected to return right back to normal? This is more of a rhetorical question because I do not really expect an answer, nor do I think there is just one answer to explain this phenomenon. This week alone, I was talking to two different friends. Both of whom experienced a significant loss in their lives, one a mom, and the other a brother. Keep in mind that these deaths did not happen months or a year ago, but instead PLURAL.... years! The fact that years drift by, lulls others around us to think that we are okay with the loss. That we know it is a part of our lives but we have managed to 'move on.' Two of my LEAST favorite words.
It is hard enough managing friends who knew Mattie and know our story, but what happens when you make new friends and these friends know NOTHING about the trauma you experienced? It becomes a fine line of deciding whether to share this information or to what extent makes sense to share. I hear this issue arise with many people I have met who have lost a child. But it is applicable really to any significant loss. Once you lose someone significant, your world turns into pre and post. Pre-loss and Post-loss! You measure everything and everyone in your life against these two points in time.
1 comment:
Vicki, I don't think there is one answer either for your rhetorical answer. However, whatever the answers are that people would give, would make no sense to me. The loss of a child is significant to the rest of the parent's lives. There is no back to normal! What is normal after this loss - nothing. I am not telling you anything, you are Mattie's Mom. Rather, I am trying to make sense of why anyone would not see this.
While death is part of life, I will always believe that death out of order, creates a vacuum and nothing fills this in parents lives. No parent should have to face the death of their child yet many do! The fact that much of society sees mourning as a period of set time tells me most people don't want to face a fact that doesn't touch or affect their life.
Your grandmother looks like a sweet woman. I imagine, she would have enjoyed the challenge of Mattie. His energy, interests and inquisitive nature probably would have given her another way to look at things in life. Children and their varying personalities teach so much to adults if we remain open to the lessons. Some very important things in life, I have learned from Children. I may have been the adult during our interaction but they were the teachers at times.
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