Monday, April 27, 2015


Matthew, Matthew, Matthew—I guess I can say your name as often as I’d like but the result is still the same. You just aren’t here. Something I’ve grappled with daily as we near the ending of Month 4 of your passing. This picture represents all of my feelings. Look at the Love in this photo. This is family. This is friendship. The Three Muskateers totally entwined at Ry & Jenn’s wedding. I can only see the fingers of your right hand and your left arm with the red wrist band. This is our present and our future isn’t it? We talk about you incessantly—but that is our past. Your love remains our present and our future. Like the photo—we can’t see you and yet we have very strong memories and feel and live with the imprint you’ve left behind. The memories bring us comfort but honestly, they are drenched in tears. The sorrow is physical. It hurts. The roller coaster is heading downhill. I’m holding on tight. Still such a short time has passed since your death. Death—there I’ve said it. Passing is the word I’ve wanted everyone to use when referencing your gone-ness. Death seems so final. Something I was just not ready to say because I felt I was saying goodbye to you and I truly cannot imagine you as not a part of my present and my future. Big step. I’m realizing that I can say goodbye to the physical you and hold onto your spirit, your love, our memories. I can bring your love into my present and make it my future. Your family is my present and my future. You live in our hearts—our present and our future.

I have an Addy story for you; God, how you loved hearing stories about her. Come to find out, she enjoys hearing stories about you as well! She has recently discovered a favorite “Once Upon A Time . . . Daddy” story and I can’t tell you how many times I have to repeat that story before she’ll go to bed. I tell her the story about the Christmas season that we visited Benson’s Wild Animal Farm when Jason was four and you were two. A million Christmas lights was the selling point. All bundled up in your bright yellow snowsuit with the royal blue racing stripe down the back you were just stopped dead in your tracks by the gorilla cage. A very large gorilla was housed in a cage within a cage and you grabbed onto those outer bars and kept shouting “GROSS—he’s picking his butt and eating it!!” The crowd of onlookers was hysterical. Well, you should hear her laugh. Probably not the best bedtime story but this is one of those times where I indulge in Gammy License. She probably likes the story so much because it has the word “butt” in it. Remember the night Jason, you and I sat on the couch in the kitchen with the dictionary and looked up every swear word we could think of? It worked. Two little boys lost their potty mouths when the mystery behind swearing was removed! My past—Addy’s present and future.

Month 4 has been all about tissues and big sunglasses. I started to empty the pockets of my winter coats getting ready to store them with the change in seasons and I could not believe the amount of tissues I’ve been carrying around! In reflecting, going to the grocery store has become such a chore. I can no longer convince Dad that breakfast cereal is an appropriate dinner meal so I’ve had to leave the house with the purpose of tackling a regular, necessary household task. The car is my alone time and I usually start crying by the time I hit Wallace Rd. Need a few tissues for the 10 minute drive and then the sunglasses usually stay on inside the store. Grief-chic. How many times have I really left the house since January? We had tickets to a comedy night in Boston in January. That was my first attempt at being social. I fell asleep in the car for the ride to Boston, slept through the show and slept all the way back to NH. I’d have to say that yes, I did get out but the jury is still out on whether or not it was a success. Our friends understood. They were just happy to be with Dad and I. Listen to me . . . what has happened to the woman that was able to feel compassion and empathy? I was very happy to be with them as well but I am getting so weary of the me-centric nature that comes with grief. What about all of the other people that are hurting? I forget that others are deeply affected by your loss. I forget to ask how they are doing and when I see someone tear up, it brings it right back home and breaks through my fog. Certainly not feeling like myself yet. Time isn’t making me as crazy as it was in the beginning. I can remember when I last washed my hair, the laundry gets done on a regular basis, I haven’t forgotten to feed the grandkids, taxes are finished, I haven’t run out of gas (only because of Dad). I’m still reading like a mad woman. Still trying to find my way. Makeup goes on some days. I get out now and then, more then than now with friends. Baby steps. Did take a huge step and went away with Auntie to the Finger Lakes region in NY. A mini-getaway and a cross off my bucket list. Was so shocked when I had an emotional meltdown in the B&B’s restaurant. I was looking out of these beautiful French doors at a sunset over Cayuga Lake. Still wintery landscape shades of browns and grays but the colors from the sun and the sky were incredible. Hope—that is what the sunset was saying to me and then the explosion of grief burst in my heart. Hope—I have no hope that my life will be the same without you. Beauty—how can I experience beauty without you? I feel like there is a veil between life and me. How do I jump back onto the train of living? This moment made me realize how safe I’ve felt at home surrounded by all of my Matty Mementos. The past. I need to find my present and my future. My goal for Month 5—find a way to turn the sorrow into sadness and stick my right foot into that thing called Life. My Aunt Lu sent me a prayer today. It resonated so deeply. "Father . . . where there is pain or sorrow, give them Your peace and mercy." So Matty, please Honey, send me all the peace and mercy you can summon. And please, send peace and mercy to all of your family and friends who are missing you as much as I.

Love you so much—forever.


1 comment:

  1. Sending you and your family lots of hugs and positive thoughts. This blog was again, a beautiful, true testimonial to a vibrant, wonderful son, brother, husband, father, relative and great friend to many. xoxox
    Donna Keefe


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