Friday, July 6, 2012Tonight's picture was taken in July of 2007 at Roosevelt Island. Typically Mattie and I stayed on the trails, but that day we walked out into the woods on a log. You can see Mattie peeking behind me in this photo. One of the reasons we walked out on the log was to get a closer look at the deer that were eating off in the distance. Mattie and I both loved deer and he was getting just as good as I am at spotting them. Peter always joked with me that I have what he called "deer-dar" (like radar for deer). If they are around, I will spot them. Mattie was working on his deer-dar and really had a knack for spotting and hearing things in the woods.
Quote of the day: This grief, Theodore realized, was one of the few separating things in their life together. He couldn't help Suzannah here; he couldn't reach her. This particular part of her had died. If she had wept and grieved, he could have comforted her; the ground would have bloomed again. But it was a sealed-over area no one could reach, where nothing would ever grow. He learned then about the isolation of grief, even for those in the same grief. Grief can't be shared. Every one carries it alone, his own burden, his own way. ~ Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Last night's blog posting, sparked a conversation between Peter and I. The conversation was about isolation. Peter has felt the isolation I described in last night's blog for quite some time now. Perhaps years. For me, I would say I began to notice a solid change in my social relationships a year after Mattie died. Now of course, the changes are too obvious for me to continue to make excuses for them. However, the feelings of isolation don't only occur between friends they also occur within the bereaved couple as well. Despite the fact that Peter and I are coping with the same loss, we can not always help each other through it. We try to describe this reality during each palliative care panel we participate on. The loss of a child maybe one of the most significant traumas faced by a couple, and yet unlike other ups and downs a couple may endure, this is NOT an issue spouses can always help each other with. Mostly because they are going through the trauma at the same time, and their reactions and needs maybe different as they process and heal from it. These differences can cause GREAT challenges for couples, and it is of no surprise to us that so many couples end their relationship over the death of a child.
Lindbergh's quote actually was found within the Bernstein book that I am reading. What captured my attention is her line..... "But it was a sealed-over area no one could reach, where nothing would ever grow." I would say the quote is accurate because when your child dies, something inside of you dies too. That dead part of you, remains ever present, but it is sealed off from one's self and others. I wouldn't describe it as something that has rotted out inside of me, because that would imply that I could potentially cut it out and rebuild myself. I would say what remains is instead something much worse than rotted material. It is a component that is hollow, numb, and simply impenetrable. Almost as if I lost a vital part of myself, that I can't get back, and yet aren't sure how to take in life and those around me without this portion of myself.
I began tonight's posting by talking about deer, and I would like to end with this beautiful picture of a female deer. I visited my friend Tina today, and while we were having lunch together, in her backyard I spotted this special sighting. Tina has all sorts of fruit trees in her backyard, and this deer went to town on a buffet of apples, pears, and plums! This was an incredible sight, which Mattie would have absolutely LOVED!
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