Saturday, January 23, 2010
Tonight's picture was taken in June 2002. Mattie was two months old. I remember taking this picture of Mattie and Peter as if it were yesterday. I loved Mattie in his sailboat outfit, and of course loved his cute red cheeks. At the time I thought life was complicated dealing with a baby who had colic and never slept. Little did I know what was in store for us. It saddens me to know that this beautiful baby suffered so much, that he did not have a chance to grow up, and that we will always have this void in our lives.
Somewhere along a lifetime most are broken
but we pretend we are not
taking up armor and masks
as if so doing we could fool the rest
as if a state of brokenness
was something to be ashamed of.
Contorted behind a smiling
and daily polished patina
we bend ourselves into pretzels for fear
a glimmer, warm and needing,
might shine through and blow our cool.
As if no one could read the details
running tickertape across our foreheads.
As if none could see our clumsy antics
tripping over bloated and rotting unattended business.
As if our single-minded hypocrisy
caused no pain.
As if we could hide from who we are,
as if who we are was hiding.
And still we are loved by those who see us
better than we see ourselves
love letting go of face forever and
taking up the heart of us
however broken.
Perhaps it is time to accept that broken is a part of place
that within these learning fields on earth
broken is a state of grace
wherein opportunity exists to learn the best
and the worst of it.
Perhaps it’s time to recognize
and embrace the way we feel
picking our broken pieces off the ground of being
learning to knit them together again
with compassion for ourselves
larger than we were before,
larger than we ever imagined,
building with a new awareness
that somehow broken opens a door
invisible before.
And with newfound wholeness, expansive,
that embraces the broken and the mending
we become alive to the possibility
of sharing our humanity.
Unbroken we can never know this.
So let go of fear of falling,
stubbing pride and dignity
embrace the lessons a lifetime brings
laughing and crying wholeheartedly.
To ride our time without a bump
in our imagined being
would be to live an epoxy bubble,
brittle, indifferent, and unmoved by beauty
untouched by an ocean of love surrounding
beckoning us to jump.
There is some truth to the message in this poem, that we all experience bumps in the road, or at times feel broken. Broken or shattered physically or emotionally from our experiences. Certainly as we are forced to deal with life's challenging moments, we realize we can either get stuck in them or adjust to them. It is through the process of adjusting and coping that we learn a great deal about ourselves. About our strengths and about our support networks. As the poem expresses, living life without adjusting to the bumps in life's road would only leave us in an "epoxy bubble, brittle, indifferent, and unmoved by beauty, untouched by an ocean of love surrounding beckoning us to jump." For the most part I embrace the sentiments of this poem, however, Mattie's death is more than just a bump in the road, it is actually more like running up against the grand canyon. Such a trauma leaves me unable to navigate, adjust, and cope. Do I see the world differently now? Yes, certainly. I see both the pain and unfairness of life, and also the true beauty, goodness, and love within the people who surround us. Yet, despite my gained clarity, my overwhelming understanding of the fragility of life, and the depths of emotions cancer and Mattie's death has produced, if given the choice, I rather have Mattie back and simply be clueless to the depths of pain and the enlightenment Peter and I now feel.
I had the opportunity to visit Mary, Ann's mom, in the hospital today. At one point, Mary was evaluated by a physical therapist and an occupational therapist, and what fascinated me about this process is with encouragement and time, lots of time, Mary can actually do more for herself physically that I thought was possible. This speaks to two things to me, first, every assisted living facility should have resident therapists on call, and if that isn't possible, the aides working with older adults need to have some skilled training. Second, the key is time. All of us lead busy lives, but within an assisted living facility, there shouldn't be the same pressures. It shouldn't be about the speed at which we get someone dressed, it should be about empowering older adults to do things for themselves, even if it takes longer. There is no telling the strides older adults would be able to make if only given access to trained personnel and the time to achieve certain tasks. Needless to say, after Mary's therapy session today, it made me pause and wonder. The goal of ANY facility working with an older adult should be to empower them. It is only through feeling empowered that we can effectively instill hope and enhance one's quality of life.
Tonight JP, our neighbor and owner of JJ (our resident Jack Russell Terrier), invited Peter and I out to dinner. JP's friend, Sheila joined us. Sheila works at Georgetown Hospital, and always checked in on us when Mattie was battling cancer. Peter and I value their support, and we had a delightful and memorable dinner, and in the process had the opportunity to laugh throughout the evening.
I would like to end tonight's posting with a message from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "That dream must have been quite something for you to remember it so clearly. I looked up bugs and cockroaches in the dream "dictionary" to see what I could find about the symbolism. What struck me was the note about cockroaches being a symbol of the need for renewal and rejuvenation. Perhaps this is a sign from Mattie that you are on a path to healing even if it doesn't feel that way. He is "bugging" you to continue to try to get out and connect, especially with children so you are surrounded by a crowd of them in the dream. I am sorry Mary (Ann's mom) is in the hospital; that is a stressful place for anyone but especially a fragile, older person. It is lovely of you to understand this and to spend time and to keep her company at dinner. She is accustomed to eating in the dining facility at the nursing home with lots of company and to eat alone must somehow feel like punishment. My instructor said yesterday in practice that each person's practice is theirs alone, that it differs day to day with the weather, your mood, your diet, etc. I think life in general is that way and our ability to deal with the stresses of a particular day as well. I hope today is a day in which you are able to find the energy to be out and to connect with those you care about and who care for you. I hold you gently in my thoughts."
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