Sunday, June 24, 2012Tonight's picture was taken in June of 2004. Mattie and Peter were pictured with Gladys, Peter's maternal grandmother. Gladys was recuperating in a convalescent hospital in Connecticut, and we drove up from Washington, DC to spend time with her. Mattie was only two years old, but most definitely a live wire. I wanted Mattie and Gladys to have this time together, and Mattie understood that this visit was not about his entertainment and running around, but instead that we required him to stay in the room with us. With that in mind, I packed a large bag full of toys, puzzles, Legos, and other things to keep him engaged. I know Gladys had a wonderful time watching him in motion as he played. You may also notice that in front of Gladys was a colorful plate. The plate was actually one of Mattie's second birthday plates, with a red train on it. Mattie knew we were going to bring Gladys food (since like me Gladys was motivated by food), and he suggested using one of his birthday plates to cheer her up! Which was a very good idea.
Quote of the day: Without empathy there is no way forward for civilization. ~ James O'dea
Peter and I spent the whole day at home today doing various chores. Despite the heat, we were in our garden and were visited by birds and now several butterflies. New to our deck is a tiny white spotted butterfly who has just begun visiting us this week. In fact, while eating lunch outside today, this butterfly was fluttering all around me.
Besides our butterfly visits, Peter and I, found three pennies on the street this week. All reminders of Mattie for us. On one hand it is comforting that within our world there are objects and gifts from nature that keep Mattie's presence alive and real for us, but on the other hand, I am not sure I will ever look upon any of this as okay. Will I ever be at peace with the fact that Mattie is not a part of our lives? My hunch is NO! Will weekends as they exist now, ever be normal for us? The answer to that is also NO! I reflect upon every season, all four of which are impossible (fall - I remember school and Mattie's death; winter - I remember Christmas; spring - I remember Mattie's birthday; and summer - I remember Mattie's diagnosis), yet summer maybe the hardest one of all. Mattie was diagnosed on July 23, two days before my birthday. Once a happy month for me, July now signifies all sorts of trauma and loss. Compounded with that, summer is perceived to be... filled with vacations and families. I can assure you it becomes an internal struggle to figure out how to cope with each and every day moving forward.
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