Friday, February 17, 2023
Tonight's picture was taken in February of 2009. Mattie was in the outpatient clinic that day and his art therapists invited him to add his handprint to a NEW pediatric sign they created for the in-patient units. The art therapists painted the sign below, but thought it would be special to feature a few handprints. Mattie said NO to the handprint. So without skipping a beat, his therapists suggested Mattie's footprint instead. Jessie and Jenny painted Mattie's foot red and then just like the Hollywood Walk of fame, Mattie's print was captured forever.
Quote of the day: Heroes didn't leap tall buildings or stop bullets with an outstretched hand; they didn't wear boots and capes. They bled, and they bruised, and their superpowers were as simple as listening, or loving. Heroes were ordinary people who knew that even if their own lives were impossibly knotted, they could untangle someone else's. And maybe that one act could lead someone to rescue you right back. ~ Jodi Picoult
I absolutely relate to Jodi Picoult's quote, though I must admit that I have read practically every book she has written. She writes fiction, but it is clear to her reader the extensive research she does on the given subject matter addressed in each of her novels. We have been conditioned in our society and through media and Hollywood, in particular, to think that a hero has to do something extraordinary. Something so noteworthy that it gets covered in the evening news or a movie is made about the person.
However, we are surrounded by heroes in our lives everyday. To me it is the small acts of kindness, these unexpected gifts of humanity, that to me are truly heroic. Think about it, when you had a bad day, if someone does something nice, kind, or caring, doesn't it feel like you just won the lottery?
Last night, Peter and I were invited to a friend's house. Our friend lost his wife to cancer in 2021. Typically I do NOTHING social because I truly can't balance it. I used to love going out for lunch or dinner with friends. But now that is impossible, as I have to worry about my parent's meals and therefore if I eat with them, I can't possibly eat again. So yesterday I took my parent's out for a late lunch and then we went to my friend's house at 6pm. I knew I had to leave by 9pm, in order to get back home to put my dad to bed. So I always feel pressure at all times.
Our friend wanted to share two memory books he made after the death of his wife. They were very meaningful, personal, and inspirational. My goal is not to talk about the content here, but to express what it evoked in me.
I saw photos of this couple over decades and heard about the wonderful things they did together and how they lived their life raising their family. I got to see photos of their children through the years. While observing and absorbing this content, I couldn't help but reflect how different my life is from what I was viewing. If Peter and I were asked to create such a memory book, ours would look so VERY different.
It would look different because childhood cancer cut our lives short. While other parents will have photos of their children developing over time, our pages would be blank. I wouldn't have comparison photos to what I saw last night, nor will I ever have grandchildren photos. Somehow this hit me and has remained with me today.
Of course while reviewing these books with our friend, I was very present, focused, reflective on his words and the work he put into creating the book, and I was committed to listening, sharing, and letting him know he was not alone. I felt honored that he wanted to share such intimate material with us. So like Picoult's quote says, "even if [my] own life was impossibly knotted, perhaps [I] could untangle someone else's."
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