Monday, October 9, 2018
Tonight's picture goes nicely with the one I posted last night. The photo was taken in October of 2006. Mattie was four years old and LOVED pumpkin picking. I snapped this photo of my two boys with a wheel barrow in hand to pick and collect pumpkins. Mattie was all business, but placated me with a photo before he jumped into the field.
Quote of the day: Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen. ~ Orhan Pamuk
I am not sure that I speak dog, but I do think Sunny and I understand each other. In just the last few days, each time I am out with Sunny, I have had people stop me to tell me what a beautiful dog he is. Women and men! In fact one woman told me that Sunny's eyes almost look human. I couldn't agree more. Certainly I can't talk to Sunny about Mattie, but yet Sunny understands that Mattie Miracle activities and events are important. Therefore, he needs to be patient and of course he observes my busy work. Sunny is my companion, work colleague, friend, and family member all wrapped up into one!
Switching gears, I am still reflecting on the reunion event I attended with Peter on Saturday. As I mentioned in the blog, the highlight of my evening was meeting the person sitting to the left of me at our dinner table. I had never met him before, but Peter and I struck up a conversation with him about Mattie and Mattie Miracle. When he heard that Mattie has been dead for 9 years, his response was.... life must be easier now compared to the first or second year after Mattie's death. Peter and I both answered him, NO! In many ways, the further along you are in the process of losing a child, the harder it is. He looked at us perplexed and actually wanted to hear more.
I can't say anyone actually ever asked me this question, nor took the time for a response. I explained to him that in year one, everyone in your network is walking on eggshells around you trying to be supportive and empathetic. By year two, I distinctly remember the switch in people! I truly believe they felt if we survived the first year, the we were good to go. That we "recovered" and were able to "move on." It was within that first year people disengaged and expected us to return to business as usual. The problem was that didn't happen and instead on top of dealing with grief, we were dealing with abandonment and isolation.
I explained to my table mate that losing an only child meant that I did not see friends frequently, friends who had children. In fact in some cases, I lost good and long term friends.... permanently! There were no more school events, pick ups and drop offs at school, there were no more academic or social milestones, and worst of all, when parents saw me some just walked the other way. I was too scary for them to manage. Now nine years later, my friends still have children and I don't. I still hear about their milestones and accomplishments, and even have to endure photographs. All things I can no longer relate to, just as much as they can't imagine or relate to my life. Holidays are NO LONGER the same, our hopes for the future have been forever altered, and let's not talk about going on vacation. Times in which families unite, but our important little one is gone.
I have had people tell me they know how I feel because their children left home and are now in college! REALLY? Do I need to elaborate on this here??? Certainly it is a type of loss and a family adjustment, but the big difference is this is normal, natural, and part of the growing process. With the emphasis on growing and developing. In our case, we have been deprived watching this process unfold in Mattie, as completing preschool and kindergarten did not give us enough time as parents. At the end of our conversation, I think this person asking us questions felt badly that he had us revisiting our grief. However, what I told him was this is something we live with everyday. Though we may not talk about it with others, it is part of our daily life. Instead, I think people asking us about our thoughts and feelings help to make them real and tangible and in the process we are educating others about child loss.
Tonight's picture goes nicely with the one I posted last night. The photo was taken in October of 2006. Mattie was four years old and LOVED pumpkin picking. I snapped this photo of my two boys with a wheel barrow in hand to pick and collect pumpkins. Mattie was all business, but placated me with a photo before he jumped into the field.
Quote of the day: Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen. ~ Orhan Pamuk
I am not sure that I speak dog, but I do think Sunny and I understand each other. In just the last few days, each time I am out with Sunny, I have had people stop me to tell me what a beautiful dog he is. Women and men! In fact one woman told me that Sunny's eyes almost look human. I couldn't agree more. Certainly I can't talk to Sunny about Mattie, but yet Sunny understands that Mattie Miracle activities and events are important. Therefore, he needs to be patient and of course he observes my busy work. Sunny is my companion, work colleague, friend, and family member all wrapped up into one!
Switching gears, I am still reflecting on the reunion event I attended with Peter on Saturday. As I mentioned in the blog, the highlight of my evening was meeting the person sitting to the left of me at our dinner table. I had never met him before, but Peter and I struck up a conversation with him about Mattie and Mattie Miracle. When he heard that Mattie has been dead for 9 years, his response was.... life must be easier now compared to the first or second year after Mattie's death. Peter and I both answered him, NO! In many ways, the further along you are in the process of losing a child, the harder it is. He looked at us perplexed and actually wanted to hear more.
I can't say anyone actually ever asked me this question, nor took the time for a response. I explained to him that in year one, everyone in your network is walking on eggshells around you trying to be supportive and empathetic. By year two, I distinctly remember the switch in people! I truly believe they felt if we survived the first year, the we were good to go. That we "recovered" and were able to "move on." It was within that first year people disengaged and expected us to return to business as usual. The problem was that didn't happen and instead on top of dealing with grief, we were dealing with abandonment and isolation.
I explained to my table mate that losing an only child meant that I did not see friends frequently, friends who had children. In fact in some cases, I lost good and long term friends.... permanently! There were no more school events, pick ups and drop offs at school, there were no more academic or social milestones, and worst of all, when parents saw me some just walked the other way. I was too scary for them to manage. Now nine years later, my friends still have children and I don't. I still hear about their milestones and accomplishments, and even have to endure photographs. All things I can no longer relate to, just as much as they can't imagine or relate to my life. Holidays are NO LONGER the same, our hopes for the future have been forever altered, and let's not talk about going on vacation. Times in which families unite, but our important little one is gone.
I have had people tell me they know how I feel because their children left home and are now in college! REALLY? Do I need to elaborate on this here??? Certainly it is a type of loss and a family adjustment, but the big difference is this is normal, natural, and part of the growing process. With the emphasis on growing and developing. In our case, we have been deprived watching this process unfold in Mattie, as completing preschool and kindergarten did not give us enough time as parents. At the end of our conversation, I think this person asking us questions felt badly that he had us revisiting our grief. However, what I told him was this is something we live with everyday. Though we may not talk about it with others, it is part of our daily life. Instead, I think people asking us about our thoughts and feelings help to make them real and tangible and in the process we are educating others about child loss.
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