Tonight's picture was taken in May of 2002. Mattie was just ONE month old. I was sitting outside with him on our deck, and Peter snapped a picture of him. Mattie was always a very alert and curious baby, and even at a month old, he always looked like he was giving things great thought.
Poem of the day: Rain by Charlie Brown
Raindrops like G-d's tears
Streak my windows
As I contemplate
The gray skies
Weeping the loss
Of my son, my boy
In rain I see tears
In shadows, sadness
Will the rainbow of
G-d's promise
Lighten my load?
I wait for the sun
To chase the shadows
Of grief from my soul.
That wait encompasses my eternity.
I will always miss you.
Charlie is indeed correct. Rain does make me more contemplative and reflective. How I would love it if when the sun came back out that it would signify a change in my feelings. But I know the "shadows" I have, even the sun can't overpower, and like Charlie mentions they instead do "encompass my eternity." So the question becomes how do you learn to live with the shadows and the pain of missing someone so much?
I woke up feeling a bit better than yesterday, but I decided to go back on antibiotics. I had the opportunity to have tea this morning with Ann, before she left on a long car trip to Boston with her children. Ann is visiting her family for the week. So we got together, in a way, to say good-bye. I would imagine it is most likely understood by my readers, though I don't state it outright, that Ann gives me support on a daily basis, and in a way, she gives my life direction in a time when I feel quite directionless. So when she goes out of town it is always an adjustment process for me. Ann sent me a prayer by e-mail yesterday, a prayer in honor of St. Theresa. I responded to her that I appreciated the prayer, but had trouble accepting the contents within the prayer. I told her fortunately I have her around who can say the prayers when I can not. Part of her response to me was "I know God has amazing plans for you, and I will be here to help you realize them." I am not sure what your reaction is to reading this response, but I was deeply touched by it because it made me feel as if she is in this through the long haul with me. Despite how I feel, Ann has faith and sees strengths within me, and through this encouragement provides me with hope. Hope is an intangible factor she has been providing in my life since July of 2008, a gift which I consider priceless. When Ann began her car journey today, she called me. She told me in the past when she would go on long car trips, she would call her father throughout the trip to let him know that "the Henshaw Express" was leaving one State and entering into another one. So far, I have heard from Ann through Maryland, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Rhode Island, and now Massachusetts. She did not state it specifically, but I am honored that if Sully (her dad) is no longer alive to share in this tradition, that she values our friendship enough to share it with me. In fact, I think we talked through most of Connecticut, and in the process I got to hear that Katie finished a book during the car ride and I could hear her excitement in the background.
Ann relayed a story to me about her daughter, Abigail. When Ann and Abigail went into the Lego store in the mall recently, Abigail asked her mother whether Mattie ever built a star wars Lego set. Ann's response to her was most likely yes, since Mattie really completed almost every set while hospitalized. Abigail then told her mother that she is sure that Mattie has access to all new Lego sets in heaven. He doesn't have to pay for them, and he gets them before kids on earth do. It was a very sweet story, and I always find it fascinating how Abigail has no trouble talking about Mattie, and remembering his likes and interests. Mattie is not only a memory to her, but a friend she seems to hold deep within her heart.
Our ten year old friend, Katharina, continues to be doing well today (after her surgery yesterday), and even took a short walk on crutches outside her house. On their walk, Katharina and Tanja (Katharina's mom) spotted a monarch butterfly trailing after them. Tanja was certain this was Mattie cheering Katharina on, and following his wheelchair along the journey. Katharina is borrowing Mattie's wheelchair, and seeing that wheelchair alone reminds me of Mattie's battle. In Tanja sharing this story with me, it really hits me how Mattie has changed our lives. How the beauty of butterflies are noticed, appreciated, and most of all serve as a reminder of my courageous son. When I hear about how Abigail and Katharina remember Mattie, I am certainly touched in the moment, but then when I further reflect upon it as I write this blog, I find that it does bring me to tears. How does a seven year old die so tragically, and yet in only seven short years, he has made an impact on others? The answer is because he was Mattie. I told Ann today over tea that I have already had my great life's accomplishment. She asked me what that was, and I told her it was having and raising Mattie. She seems to think I have other things still yet to accomplish, perhaps!
Peter asked me tonight if I was aware of how Mattie would indicate by hand gestures his love for Peter. I told him that I did remember, but I clearly did not know the full signal. Mattie would point to his eye, then touch his heart, and then point at Peter. To in essence say, I LOVE YOU. However, there was actually more to the message. After Mattie would point to Peter, he would stick up two fingers, and then stick up five fingers. The two fingers meant "so" and the five fingers meant "much." So the gesture literally translated to I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! That was news to me, and when Peter was sharing this story with me, I could tell that he was thinking about Mattie today and being reflective. It is funny how you spend so much time with one person, like I did with Mattie, and yet can miss subtle gestures and movements. I am so happy that between Peter and I, we pretty much have them all covered and captured in our hearts and minds.
I would like to end tonight's posting with a message from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "It seems like you and Peter are trading illness back and forth. I hope that you both get better soon. As you said sadness and sickness is a bad combination. I am sure that the licensure board appreciated having you back; you always seem to approach even the most difficult tasks with both humor and a get it done attitude. I too have noticed that the medical community among others now sends things out marked urgent when they truly are not; supposedly they do this to make people respond but I suspect that eventually we will become immune, especially when the emergencies usually turn out not to be such and when we do need to respond quickly we won't. Not a good thing and very reminiscent of the "boy who cried wolf." Apparently the staff has not read their fairy tales. I am sure that Tanja appreciated your concern; it is hard to wait for a loved one to come out of surgery and concentrating on a book or a program is very difficult to do. Pleasant company, whether by text or in person is always appreciated in those settings. I do hope that today finds you feeling better; I dedicate the energy of today's practice to you and Peter getting well. I hold you gently in my thoughts."
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