Tonight's picture was taken on October 10, 2009, the day of Mattie's funeral and celebration of life event. After Mattie's funeral, hundreds of people walked from the church up the block to the Visitation School. Thanks to one of our friends who is a graduate of the school as well as a board member, the School opened one of its beautiful buildings for us to host a celebration of life ceremony, to display many of Mattie's art pieces, to have a luncheon, and a dedicated room for Mattie's friends to gather, create and have a balloon release. I can't tell you how many photos, pieces of art, and other objects that were on display at this event. Thankfully I had help putting this event together, which was why we waited a month after Mattie's death to host this meaningful day.
Quote of the day: Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation. ~ Kahil Gilbran
It is hard to believe that 8 years ago today was Mattie's funeral and celebration of life event. I went back to the blog in 2009, and realized I did not post many photos of Mattie's celebration of life event. But one thing was very clear, hundreds of people attended Mattie's funeral and event. I copied the posting I wrote in 2009 below. I think it is worth reading, I know I appreciated reflecting upon it. One thing that caught my attention is that I wrote: "I had many questions asked of me, as to whether I would continue writing the blog. As I said before I would write up until Mattie's funeral. I am not sure how I feel about this now, and will continue until I have determined I can't do this any more. A part of me feels by writing each day, I force Mattie's memory to be ever present and therefore to never die. Of course I realized whether I write now or not, his legacy will continue on to some extent. But until I can assure his legacy with an effectively functioning Foundation, I most likely will keep writing."
Can you believe this? At one point I thought I was going to stop writing the blog after Mattie's death! I know I have toyed with this notion many times since then, but for nine years, I write this blog daily. It is a labor of love. I would say that my thoughts and feelings have evolved over the years, but at the end of the day the fear is still the same. Time has not erased that..... I write because I don't want to forget Mattie. What a commentary for a parent to have to write.
Blog posting from the day of Mattie's funeral (October 10, 2009):
I can confidently say that Mattie
had a beautiful funeral mass, reception, and celebration of life ceremony
today. I know he was looking down upon us and was smiling. He was smiling for
many reasons, I am sure he was beaming over the fact that people were appreciating
his art work and creativity, and most likely because he could see just how many
people united together and formed a solid community. This community helped us
through the past 13 months, through this emotionally laddened day, and I have
no doubt some of you will be there as a continued force into our uncertain
future.
It is after midnight, and I am not
thinking as clearly as usual. I am exhausted physically and emotionally, and
therefore plan on making this short tonight, in hopes that having another day
to reflect on today, will make whatever I say tomorrow more insightful. If that
is at all possible. One thing I do want to say is that we are SO grateful to
Team Mattie for helping us plan, coordinate, and execute our dreams and desires
for today's event. You far exceeded my expectations, and having you all in our
lives is a blessing beyond measurable proportion. Mattie's art work was
exquisitely displayed, and when I saw it filling each and every room, I took
great pride in his works and appreciated the importance of art in his life this
year.
We want to thank all of you for
coming or sending us messages today. Your presence made today possible, and
several of you assured me you would never forget Mattie. I had many questions
about whether I would continue writing the blog as well. As I said before I
would write up until Mattie's funeral. I am not sure how I feel about this now,
and will continue until I have determined I can't do this any more. A part of
me feels by writing each day, I force Mattie's memory to be ever present and
therefore to never die. Of course I realized whether I write now or not, his
legacy will continue on to some extent. But until I can assure his legacy with
an effectively functioning Foundation, I most likely will keep writing.
The day couldn't have been more
special. Every part of it was memorable, and seeing the children sing a self
created song for Mattie was touching, along with their red balloon release with
messages attached for Mattie to read in heaven! What a sight that was, and I
will never forget any of this. None the less, even after a mass, talking to
several hundred people, hearing tributes to Mattie, and being surrounded by
amazing love and support, I still tonight feel so empty, so alone, and so
directionless. I actually don't feel much these days, I can't cry, and I move
from one task to another. Despite not feeling, I do know on some level I am
profoundly changed and I miss everything about Mattie in our life.
I am signing off tonight out of
sheer exhaustion, but I would like to end with a message I received.
This message is from one of Ann's
neighbors who I met at a picnic in the spring. Karen wrote, "I have
started and re-started this email several times in the month since Mattie
passed away. I worried that you would think it strange that someone who does
not know you or Mattie would write an email to share her sympathy. But as you
have already heard from many others, Mattie's life and his battle against
cancer have been in my thoughts so much these last few months, so I wanted to
let you know a few things. First, though I never met him, I will not forget
Mattie. When reading your blog, it always struck me that Mattie was able to
keep his sense of humor, his inquisitiveness, and his sense of self through
incredible pain and through situations most adults would struggle to endure. It
is truly amazing. I have two boys, and when I look at them I sometimes wonder
about Mattie and how someone so young was able to have the strength and spirit
to fight the way he did. He was clearly an exceptional boy, and I know it is
because he has exceptional parents. Which leads to me to my second point - what
a profoundly generous thing it is for you and Peter to share your journey
through your blog. As I said before to you, I have several friends who haven't
met you but who have followed Mattie's battle. All of us have been deeply
affected by his fight and his death, and while we are sad, I also know that it
has been a lesson. While I believe (hope?) that all parents love their
children, your complete love and devotion to Mattie, and how you were able to
fight for him so fiercely despite being exhausted and being faced with
unimaginable pain, struck everyone I know who reads your blog. Something
brought this home to me the other day. I had to take my 2-year-old to the ER
for stitches after he hit his head on a table. He was fine, and I knew he would
be fine, but it was a pretty hairy 30 minutes when they strapped him down to a
board to start doing the stitches on the back of his head. He was hysterical.
After they finished and I was comforting him, I thought - how did the Browns do
this every day for over a year without being able to tell their child or know
that everything would be "fine" in a half-hour? And it led me to
this. Mattie was able to do it because he knew that his parents loved him
without limit, and his confidence in that gave him the strength and courage to
keep battling cancer. I am grateful to you and Peter for sharing Mattie's life
and for allowing me to know him."
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