Tonight's picture was taken in August of 2003. Mattie was 16 months old and he was in love with his books. Especially books that had little windows that would open up! Right next to our couch, I used to have a big basket filled with all sorts of books. Mattie loved going to the bin and pulling out books, looking at them, stacking them, and of course he loved when we read them together. The book you see here was a Sesame Street book, and you may see Elmo (the red character) on the page. Mattie absolutely loved Elmo. Whenever he heard Elmo on TV, Mattie would stop in his tracks and became very focused on what Elmo had to say. These were priceless moments, with a precious boy.
Quote of the day: How does it feel, to see a dying child? One does not feel at all for there is nothing in the mind to make sense of it. Nothing, but one's own death. ~ A.J. West
Several of my friends recently asked me how do I manage nasty comments posted on this blog? Specially, they were curious how I handle this emotionally. It is a good question, and naturally being human, I can view the comments as cruel, mean spirited, and therefore can get pangs of pain. But at the end of the day, I know who I am. I know what our incredible mother-son bond looked and felt like, and I also know that the loss of a child to cancer is not understood by every person. THANKFULLY, as I would hate for you to experience this nightmare!
One of my friends was so incensed by the blog comment that I recently received, that she wanted me to print it out and burn it. She was just so heart broken with this comment that she did not know what to do with herself. I get it, but unlike her, I have been living with this pain for 17 years. So nasty comments are just that.... words. The real nightmare was Mattie's diagnosis and death, after experiencing those things, and knowing how I gave Mattie's care my all, no one can get under my skin about Mattie, our relationship, or my continued need to reflect on the beauty of his life. Newsflash..... the loss of a child is a forever loss. It isn't a Vicki thing, instead, I invite you to find any parent who lost a child to cancer, and you will uncover a story, a mission, and the need to share lifelong memories. If you can't appreciate this need, then congratulations..... that means you have never experienced a traumatic loss (yet!).
Today, I took my mom to the city for her hair and nail appointments. When I walked into the salon, I literally couldn't remember whether I had a haircut appointment today or not. I felt so tired, dazed, and confused. The salon owner and staff know about my caregiving journey, and they have great compassion for my daily role. A role I have served for five years without a day's break. Thankfully I did not have a hair appointment today, because frankly I have to be mentally in the mood for this. Some days I can't sit still and most days I am not interested in focusing on myself and my needs.
The salon is located in Washington, DC. I lived there for over 20 years as a married woman and then mother. Whenever I visit that location, I am immediately transported back into my former life. I get flashbacks of our trips to the Kennedy Center, to our local pizza restaurant, our walks by the Potomac River, and of course my time as a student and then part time faculty member at the George Washington University. Cognitively it is very hard, and I mean very hard, rationalizing that this was my life at one time, and now my life looks completely different. I did not think it was possible to decimate my life any more after losing Mattie, but clearly I was mistaken.
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