Sunday, January 17, 2010Tonight's picture is the one I promised you from last night's blog. I received this from a staff member, Susan, at Mattie's school. The photo was taken during the school's "Artstravagenza." During this event, guest artists from the community come into the school, to have kids explore different mediums of art and to enrich their interests and skills. As you can see in this picture, the guest artist is in the background and cheering Mattie on as he leaps into the air with spirit. Susan not only sent me this photo electronically, but she made me a hard copy too which I plan on framing. Susan also commented to me that in every picture, she loved Mattie's sweaters. Mattie, like me, was a sweater person, and I would have to agree with Susan, he wore his sweaters well! To me this picture is down right breath taking, because it captures Mattie's happiness in kindergarten and his determination. Notice the fist he was making in his right hand, signifying that he was really trying hard at this activity, and giving it all his might. I try to remember the Mattie pictured here, the Mattie who could run, walk, and be a child.
Poem of the day: Miss Me But Let Me Go
When I come to the end of the day,
And the sun has set for me.
I want no rites in a gloom-filled room.
Why cry for a soul set free?
Miss me a little, but not too long,
And not with your head bowed low.
Remember the love we once shared---Miss me, but let me go.
For this is a journey we all must take,
And each must go alone.
It's all part of the maker's plan,
A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick at heart
Go to the friends we know.
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds---
Miss me, but let me go.
As I read tonight's poem, "Miss me, but let me go," I must admit that it is my greatest hope that Mattie's "Soul is set free," and naturally not a day goes by where Peter and I don't "remember the love we shared." However, really sit and think about this line: "Miss me, but let me go. For this is a journey we all must take, And each must go alone." Certainly there are things about these particular lines in the poem that we may agree with, but how do you let go of a seven year old? Again, this is an academic exercise in which I am asking you as a parent to imagine sitting in my current position. I have a feeling, if you imagined saying good-bye to your children for too long, this would be a highly overwhelming and disturbing thought. If you allow yourself long enough to enter my world, these are the thoughts and feelings Peter and I live with daily. As a society, maybe, with an emphasis on maybe, we do come to peace with letting go, and allowing our departed loved ones to make this independent journey to heaven, IF the departed person lived a full life. There was nothing full about Mattie's life, and though I admit he accomplished a lot and touched many lives in his short seven years, that is still not long enough for me, and I find many discussions about grief usually evoke emotions and thoughts about an older adult dying. It is much harder to grapple with the death of a child, and even harder to let go and come to peace with it.
At breakfast, I discussed with Ann's children the timeline for their day. I explained that they were joining their dad, and taking Ann out to dinner for her birthday. What caught me off guard was Abigail asked me twice throughout the morning whether I was going out to dinner with them. In the past, I would have taken this comment as simply a fact finding mission, but today, I sensed a difference. In my mind she was asking me this because she enjoyed my company over the last day. Naturally, I don't know if this was indeed her intention, but as a person who loves to study human nature, I am relying on my gut feeling about this conversation. Despite my lows on any given day, connecting with children and people are still important to me.
This afternoon, I had the opportunity to go to a spa with Ann to celebrate her day. We were lucky that there was no one else around us, because our conversations are anything but light. We have both dealt with so much illness and death, that we freely talk about these topics, but I am very cognizant that this may not be deemed appropriate conversation by others. I think the beauty about going to a spa for several hours, is that I try to turn the outside world off. It doesn't always work, but that is always my goal. I had the opportunity to sit and chat today, drink tea, and even receive chocolate, and it wasn't even my birthday! I try to capture these more "normal" activities in my mind, because as I face each day, with the same question, "Is it worth getting out of bed?" I find I need more motivators and encouragers. I guess losing Mattie has caused me not only to grieve, but also to have a full blown existential crisis. If Mattie can die, well so can I, at any point. If this is true, which it is for all us mere mortals, then what on earth is the meaning of our lives on earth? To work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, which causes us to lose perspective of what really is important? Of course I am a realist, I know working is vital in order to live and to support our families, but nonetheless, in the race to achieve success or happiness, I wonder how happy we really are as a society? All I can say is losing Mattie, has been a wake up call for me, one of which I rather have not had. I see life now as more fragile and that nothing is guaranteed.
I would like to end tonight's posting with a message from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "What lovely gifts to receive, more photos of Mattie and the lovely pin you described so well. I think Katharina's sharing of her dream was a lovely gift as well; thoughts of Mattie in a better, healthier, happier time. I do think it reflects where his spirit is now, freed from his disease crippled body, he runs and plays and does the things boys love to do. It is lovely of you and Peter to take this opportunity to do for others; Peter watching Mary and Mike's children and you taking care of Abagail and Katharina so Ann and Bob could have a night away. It speaks volumes for both of you, your skills as parents are such that the children all trust you both. It is just a pale reflection of the love and care you gave Mattie but let it remind you of what a great mom you are. I wish Ann a very happy birthday and thank her again for all of her wonderful support to you both through Mattie's illness and after it. I dedicate the peace and strength of my practice to you today."
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