Tonight's picture was taken in March of 2009. Mattie was given several silk screens and got to design whatever he wanted on them. This screen illustrates three of Mattie's tell tale signs.... 1) the sun, 2) grass, and 3) blue sky. These three things always made their way into all of his drawings, with only the main subject matter changing. In this particular silk screen, Mattie drew a picture of his "girlfriend" Charlotte who came to visit him that day in the hospital. Mattie's silk screens became part of our room decorations. Literally I would hang them from the ceilings with each hospital admission. Our admissions and discharges were hilarious because we looked like a traveling circus show with bins on wheels! However in addition to the silk screen, you can also see one of the many surgical scars on Mattie's body (the one on his right leg) in this photo.
Quote of the day: You’ll get over it…” It’s the clichés that cause the trouble. To lose someone you love is to alter your life for ever. You don’t get over it because ‘it” is the person you loved. The pain stops, there are new people, but the gap never closes. How could it? The particularness of someone who mattered enough to grieve over is not made anodyne by death. This hole in my heart is in the shape of you and no-one else can fit it. Why would I want them to? ~ Jeanette Winterson
The last funeral I attended was Mattie's in 2009. Now five years later, I can't say that I found comfort in attending this one either. I should explain my reasoning here. Nothing was wrong with today's funeral. It was quite beautiful, well planned, with a beautiful and meaningful eulogy, and deeply moving music. The issue is where I am at. I remember when my maternal grandmother died in 1994, keep in mind this was a woman I was deeply close to. Losing her was traumatic in a way, and yet for me her funeral was actually quite therapeutic. I took comfort in knowing that my grandmother was no longer suffering from her debilitating stroke and would be united with her husband, son, brother, etc. Some how, as a "good" Catholic, the teachings I grew up learning about, believing and practicing, made sense and helped me cope and find some sort of healing with my grandmother's death. Moving forward to 2009..... then I lost Mattie. Mattie's death has caused a massive spiritual overhaul and questioning for me. Am I still Catholic? Do I still believe? The answer is probably yes, but now on a much different level. A level that I believe God can handle, but not a level that most earthly spiritual advisers can tolerate.
After Mattie endured his cancer battle for 14 months and he died in our arms in the most grueling of ways, do you think I found much comfort in turning to God? In knowing that Mattie was now joined with my deceased family members? This line of reasoning doesn't work with me and still doesn't! So when I hear these Catholic platitudes being spouted off today as it relates to Mary, I have trouble separating out Mary from Mattie. Am I happy Mary is out of her pain and suffering and possibly being reunited with loved one? Definitely. But if my child can get cancer and die, and this happens to FOUR children every day in the US, how do I know that there is a better place after we die? How do I know what I was taught to believe in all these years really exists? Perhaps if you wonder how I can question my faith, then I would have to say that your faith hasn't been tested enough! For me Mattie's death has caused a spiritual quandary or cross roads and proselytizing to me while in this state only further compounds my confusion.
Toward the end of the funeral today, there was the mention of the importance of raising your own children to love God. I went to a wedding a year ago and heard the same intention. The message in the Catholic Church is sacrament independent! I understand the reasoning, I understand why it is stated, but wow, for a parent who lost an only child this message gets me every time.
After the burial, Peter and I attended the reception Ann (Mary's daughter) held for family and friends. Over the years, I have gotten to know many of Ann's family and friends. In fact, Ann's Aunt Helen and I email all the time and today I got to meet several of her good friends at the reception. Here is another case in point where I felt like I knew these three women just from how Helen has described them over the course of the past several months. I would have to say attending social events of any kind for me can be real hits or misses for me. This wasn't the case prior to Mattie getting cancer. But now it most certainly is. It takes much more energy for me to engage, feel connected with others, and want to absorb what is going on around me.
The reception gave us all a wonderful time to chat casually with each other about Mary and our connections with each other. Toward the end of the event, the little ones in attendance started to perform little skits and songs. As little ones are so good at doing. This is naturally, healthy, and a great thing! I do not think funerals and such events should necessarily be solemn, and certainly for children, they do not and can not stay in that state for very long. Therefore it was wonderful to see them running around, playing with each other, the older ones helping the younger ones, and so forth. But naturally you know what the next comment is going to be for me, don't you???? Seeing this is very, very bittersweet. Why are all these kids running around and mine was cremated and sitting in my living room? Here is the thing, many people in the room can relate to what it is like to lose a parent, a grand parent, a sibling, or a spouse but how many can say they know what it is like to a lose a child? This is one of many things that bonded me with my friend Mary. A friendship that will never be forgotten.
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