HOW DO WE WEATHER THE STORM?

WITH SILLINESS AND HUMOR AND LOTS OF LOVE

BEDFORD NH 4:30AM EST Monday August 10 2015 Severe Grief Storm warning for Matt’s Mom issued. A line of physical and emotional pangs of longing currently over the heart region slowly moving northward. Excessive damage expected to the eyes and mind for a good portion of the day. Anticipating heavy downpour of tears and wails. There is potential for emergency support. Family and friends are advised to have cell phones on standby. Watches will continue throughout the day and updates will be broadcast . . . and so my day began!

Who knows what the triggers will be or when they will hit. The grief at times is dark and painful to sit with. Dark days are days made for reflection. My favorite moment with you loving Bear soon after his birth was captured in a photo. Birth and Death is what I reflected upon and this was the outcome:

MATTY WITH NEWBORN BABY BEAR

BIRTH AND DEATH Birth, the newness of life Expansion of the heart Awe and wonder for the soul The final glimpse of Light Death, the dark shadow of Birth Crushing hopes and dreams Breaking hearts for the left behind Awe and wonder for the soul

Grief storms find me digging into my toolbox. I rely on Shelley Ramsey’s words of healing—Grief with Hope. Hope, a floatation device for turbulent waters. I know the darkness will end as quickly as it overtakes me. I know moments of joy will return to my life. I know your memories will make me smile again. I know I will continue to move forward on my path. I know the signs will come.  For now, for just this moment, for just this day—I have to remember to breathe deep slow breaths. I need to let the tears flow till my eyes are swollen shut. I need to feel every emotion that washes over me. I need to reach out and ask for help when I can’t see my way. I pray, I beg, I plead. My prayers are one-sided conversations. I admire people that are eloquent with their prayers. I conversate. I pray to you, God, Holy Spirit, Mom & Dad, the Memeres & Peperes, every Archangel and Saint I can name, Jesus, Good Spirits. Anyone that I think will listen or hear me. “Please, please, please return my sense of comfort and peace. Give me my normal ache. This hurts so much. I’m begging. I know this request is not filled with grace. I need help and I can’t find a way to help myself today. So please.” It’s definitely a prayer from the heart (or begging but still from the heart) and I was taught that’s all it takes. I give thanks that the love we shared was deep enough to expose this other side, this very primal, animalistic force that seems to be trying to rip my heart from my body and break my spirit. Without love, grief would not exist. I would not trade our love for anything. I will find the courage to take Grief’s beating, and to this end, in coming out from the other side, I will find peace in healing.

Grief is a WE thing, not just a ME thing. I am never alone in my grief. It is shared by all those that love you. I know you are watching over me in these very difficult moments, hours, days. I have family and friends, friends of friends, and people that I’ve never met that read my letters to you. You were a part of two blended families. Your blended families stay connected. Another Dad, Step-Mom, Sisters, Cousins, Aunts, Nieces, Nephews, In-laws and Out-laws share in my letters to you Sweet Matthew. Our families share grandchildren. We were all touched by your life. We each have our own memories and other memories are entwined. Divorce may end a marriage but it does not sever all ties that bind. Grief has not eluded the other half of your family. You, Sarah and Andrew are loved and missed by all. We may walk separate paths but are all on the same grief journey.We are mourning in community and that thought alone is comforting. We help each other through sharing. We share your uplifting signs, the expression of raw emotion, accepting compassion and empathy in return, and people sharing and widening our circle to include others that are faced with loss, death, illness and trajedy. 

WITH NIKKI'S SIGN 1:11
VALIDATION

How do we weather the storm? Initially I hunker down, assessing the situation. Dad provides the first level of support. He holds me and talks to me and tells me he is sorry I am in so much pain. When the tears and the sobs slow, I reach for words, other people’s words that are on the same journey as me. I find comfort, needed strength, a dash more courage in so many blogs and articles available. I call my Sister(s). I then seek a distraction that will occupy my mind, change my environment but allow me the silence I need to reflect and feel. Baking was Monday’s distraction. Banana Corn Nut Bread. It’s what was available in the pantry and I think you would really like it, especially with the mishaps you and I have had with corn bread. It will not defeat us!! The smells coming from the oven evoke memories of happier times. I need to sit with my past before I can make peace with the present and even begin to think about the future. Photos of you warm my heart, old text messages, songs, reliving memories. Phone conversations help. Sunny summer days—soaking in all the goodness of the heat, smells and serenity of the backyard woods. Holding some in reserve for the cold winter days that make Grief seem so much more daunting.

SUN GODDESS, POP EATER & THE ACTRESS

FAVORITE MATTY TEXT EVER
MOM RADAR WAS ON HIGH ALERT

Nikki is my Replacement Matt when I need a dose of humor and levity. She is the final level of support that can poke holes in the darkness of grief, forcing its demise. Thankfully Grief does not usually hold us hostage at the same time on the same day. If it does, we have a good combined cry.  We hold each other up. She has the same sense of humor as you. She’s funny. She has a ton of pictures that are sure to brighten my mood. She starts by sending me pics of Addy and Bear. She engages in silliness and shares. She gets me to laugh which seems to be Grief’s kryptonite. We've added another dimension to our texting, our mainstay form of communication. We have become professional hashtaggers. This would surely bring out the man-giggle that we all loved to hear. Hashtag—it’s still the pound sign in my book. It may be a label or method of organizing elements of social media but for some reason, it just makes me crazy. Reminds me of the drug advertisements where the disclaimers are longer than the original advertisement. Maybe all the anger that grief conjures up is deflected at the hashtag for me! Knowing it’s a hot button issue, Nikki started to parody the hashtag. Makes the two of us laugh at ourselves and works as long as we don’t have any typos. . . and they are extremely corny, so beware . . . and this is but a very small sampling!

CRAZY HAIR DAYS (FAR LEFT ) AFTER A DRIVE FROM NY TO NHWITH TWO KIDS & GAMMY IN THE BACK SEAT& (MIDDLE) NIKKI HOUSEBOUND WITH TWO SICK BABIES!

MISC TAGS 

FAVORITE HASHTAG

AND THE TAG THAT STARTED THIS NONSENSE

I ended my evening with the same pleading prayer and woke up the next morning with the weight of the darkness of loss, the cavernous depth of sorrow replaced with a sigh of relief, a joyful mood. Prayer 1: Darkness 0. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I am learning patience, stillness. I am practicing faith and hope.

How do we weather the storm? We sit still, we console, we fasten our seat belt, we cry, we feel, we reflect, we reminisce, we reach out, we ask for help, we comfort, we love, we support, we circle our wagons a little tighter, we pray and we hope. We hope, we hope, we hope. We find our comfort and rediscover peace. We continue to look for joy while living with the ache.

Love you always & forever.

Mom

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GOODBYE . . . HELLO . . . HALLELUJAH . . .

Hello Sweetheart. We are a family that enjoys using verbal endearments, aren’t we? I was talking to Jason from my cell the other day and his sign off was our signature “Goodbye my Love”. It was the final eye opening, “ah yes” moment that I needed to pen this letter to you. You see, I believe I’ve hit a shift in my grieving process. I certainly did not reach this point on my own. I can’t remember if I told you or not that Dad and I started to see a grief counselor. I was getting tired of living on the North Side of CRAZY and knew that I needed help . . . well Dad recognized it first as I’ve not been as quick on the uptake as my days prior to your death. 

Death. DEATH. I wish there were another word that described the final act of life on this earth. Passing and loss can be used interchangeably for death and other things so that makes them the not so perfect words. Death has that finality to it though, doesn’t it? It’s a short, hard word. It doesn’t roll off the tongue easily; but I guess neither does the actual event and aftermath: so maybe it’s appropriate after all. Anyway, I started to become aware of how convoluted my problem solving skills are. It can be pretty comical when you see how I get from point A to point B and it’s also unraveling as it brings the crazy back to home plate. 

Awareness, my first clue that perhaps not all has been right with my thinking world for the last 7 months. “I’m grieving”, the statement uttered out loud and silently when I couldn’t find a word, finish a sentence, forget what I was looking for, start a task and go on to 10 different things before that first unfinished task hit me square between the eyes, lose track of time . . . sometimes for hours and sometimes uttered in a moment of levity as our humor is dark at times: I'm grieving, although a fact, was getting old—to say, to hear, to deny, to avoid.

Getting through losing you is hard work, hard work. My moments of crying have turned into days recently. I believe that is a good thing. The numbness has worn off and I’m not packing my days with busy, allowing myself the time to feel. I’m trying desperately to fit a new relationship with you into a neat little box which is unrealistic. In reflection about death, spirit and the afterlife, my thoughts shifted to the question 'what is it like to be spirit and soul'? A question with no answer until I have the personal experience, however many theories abound. I panicked when I thought our Mother/Son relationship was over. You’ve more knowledge now than when you lived on this physical plane. You know my soul and I don’t remember mine; darkened at birth so that I can live and learn here on Earth. I believe Love is one of our family lessons. We’ve experienced so many shades of it in this lifetime; familial love, non-blood love so special from a man that is not your biological Father but is most certainly your Dad, care-givers love, pet love, soul love that could not be seen but felt. I’m sure you left your mark on many when their day turned a little bit brighter after you left the “drive thru” window of your favorite iced coffee shop; we've experienced friend’s love, employer/employee love, husband/wife love and love of charitable deeds. Loving came so naturally to you. Nikki says you love organically. Isn't that a beautiful expression?  If not one of our lessons, why does it hurt so much to lose you? The love between a parent and a child is completely and utterly unconditional; love without condition no strings attached, limitless, endless and including all flaws I couldn’t imagine having that change. Especially when I don’t know what it will be replaced with!

My books . . . my tools! I’ve read and re-read Permission to Mourn by Tom Zuba. The first time I read his book, I think the words just bounced off me—unrecognized numbness. Tom has discovered a new way to grieve, a path to healing and this news was so welcome to me. After my second read when my mind could absorb more, a certain section jumped out at me. “He is gone forever. You begin to heal when you identify a belief that causes you pain. This is the first step.” Another light bulb moment. What had been wearing on my mind, frightening me so was the thought that if I said goodbye to your physical-ness that our connection would end. My belief was that perhaps all this grieving was keeping you earth-bound and slowing your progress in spirit. I do believe we all have lessons to learn in this lifetime and in the hereafter. I came to the realization and a new belief, that perhaps the final lesson for spirit is seeing life through the eyes of their beloved and that is the reason you stay with us, guide us, and send us signs to let us know you will always be with us. So, with the help of my counselor and this fine author, I was able to recycle that old belief and find peace in the belief that you will never leave me. Now that I have taken my first step, to continue on my path to healing  Mr. Zuba suggests that I tell the story of my beloved. I now know I have been preparing emotionally and mentally for this day—a Funeral of One. Just me in attendance. Just in my mind, my heart and my words. I am ready to say goodbye to the physical you without fear that our relationship will end, my new breakthrough. I am saying goodbye from a heartfelt point of love and letting you know that I am ready to discover our new relationship, with you in spirit. I am ready to tell my story—

My Story of Matt

Matthew was born Memorial Day Weekend with an ease of entry into his new world along with a full head of brown curly hair. He was a good baby spending his days eating and sleeping like a little prince, resting up and saving energy for the antics that were to develop in the years to follow. He was a curious toddler, very early to talk. As he grew he developed independence and not a care in the world for what others thought of him. Matt was bright, funny, artistic, competitive—a ray of sunshine, a good boy, a winner. He was an incredible snuggler and love whorled around him like the dust and dirt that followed Charlie Brown’s friend Pig-Pen. He felt strongly and developed bonds early-on that were hardier than super glue. Matthew was like a cosmic magnet, attracting the good and the bad, the beauty and the pain, luck and misfortune, love and sorrow. You could actually see the life lessons that came his way. If you wanted the bare-naked truth, you went to Matt. Life is raw and so was his filter-less Truth. Revenge was not the opposite of his forgiveness, yet forgiveness was something he struggled with.

Matthew’s life lessons were sometimes difficult to watch, sometimes costly, sometimes repetitious and back with a vengeance when not learned the first time around.  We all carry our darkness, our demons, our shadows. I failed him in trying to help him fight his shadows. Matthew could be loud, aggressive, quick to anger and flighty at times but he showed up for Life. He lived the yin and the yang. He was present in his lifetime. What can we learn from this? If one is loud, use your God-given gift as a voice for the less fortunate. Aggressiveness is a marker that you will never be late for a fight. Your fists or hurtful words will never solve problems but your ability to never back down will. Quick to anger is a sign of passion gone awry. You value your truths, your beliefs are strong and you will not stand down. Temper the anger with reflection before action and allow your passion to guide your way. He was bold, rash, in his younger days reckless, a jokester, a risk taker in addition to all the wonderful traits he possessed. The flip side of these traits can be viewed as a problem solver, good judge of character, flexibile with an ability to think outside of the box, and multi-task increasing efficiency. These traits espouse leadership skills—qualities of a successful businessman.

In hindsight, those character traits that scream at us the loudest, that develop into poor judgment and bad behavior—the ones that society wants us so desperately to quell—the ones that create shame as we grapple to overcome. Shame, the opposite of the care and kindness we need to find our Self. Perhaps these traits are the best part of us that shout a little louder so that we will take notice: like the roar of a motorcycle with a revved up engine or the TV commercial that airs a few decibels higher than the program airing. Perhaps if we concentrated on lowering the volume and finding balance, shame would have no place in our struggles. Shame sets you back. Shame causes you to hide. Shame creates guilt and anxiety. Shame devolves the self and nicks the soul.

The best of Matthew was Adult Matt. Watching him find his other half, witnessing the powerful changes that love, marriage and parenting brought him gave me a glimpse of fulfillment, completeness, and utmost happiness. The giving of himself to Nikki, Addy and Bear provided a front row seat to the birth, growth and unfolding of unconditional love, the desire for total nurturance for his family. 

He was successful in turning around the family business and seeing the loyalty that was given and received to and by his office staff, his workers, his truckers; he created an atmosphere of a different kind of family structure—a work-family, a team. The energy that developed allowed greater and greater goals to be set and achieved. 

Watching the interaction between the brothers and their children completed my own version of The Circle of Life. Our family was growing physically in size, emotionally in heart. We were happy, so very happy.The bond of love they felt for each other was extended to each other's children.The cousins were finding out how special it is to have a best friend in a cousin. They were learning the importance of family. I remember at 26, Matthew telling me that if he died tomorrow he would not be sad because he had the best life, the best family, the best friends, the best adventures. He was so happy—look at how much more he gained, and we got an extra 10 years.

To complete my story, Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah is the best narrator for the job. The words to Hallelujah are beautiful. Hearing them in song, they are exquisite. The word Hallelujah becomes a lyrical language consisting of a single word; one word that can be sung with such emotion and variance in range that you can hear, understand, interpret and distinguish one emotion from another, the switch from emotion to character trait and from character trait to life concept—all happening in the space and time it takes for one to hold the breath and lift up the voice to the word Hallelujah . The language—succinct. A change in inflection,  a change in meaning. K.D. Lang sings a rendition that I can feel from my core, my soul. You know that feeling when music just grabs you and makes your blood tingle? Music that relays a message that stays with you? Music that you can hear when silence surrounds you?

Pay attention to the lyrics. They tell your story Matty.

CLICK THE LINK TO HEAR LEONARD COHEN'S HALLELUJAH PERFORMED BY K.D. LANG AT THE 2005 JUNO AWARDS: (in clicking the link you will be leaving this page.)

K.D. Lang 2005 Juno Awards

Matt, your life comes to mind when I listen to this song. My interpretation follows. 

You were fascinated by the stories of the Bible but decided that you would live by the Golden Rule. Love, respect, treat others as you would like to be treated—the ethical code that is touched upon by many religions and world cultures. You believed in inclusivity not exclusivity. Love was your belief, your religion—the physical, the emotional, the logical, the irrational. You believed a secular life lived with honesty, fairness, kindness and love was a good life. You were not a believer of organized religion and yet you paid allegiance to your Knowing.

I love the second verse of this song. It can be interpreted through your relationship with Nikki, your love of her beauty--inside and out. The pull that woman had over your heart and the compromises you learned to make in the name of Love and Family completed you. When you find your heart’s ‘The One’, your maleness is weakened, your legs buckle, you are no longer walking solitary, and your partner is by your side. Instead of two, you are One. This chorus of Hallelujah speaks to praise, love, ecstasy, birth and rebirth. Your children—your renewal.

The third verse is a reflection of life—she breaks you down, fills you with strife then watches as you struggle to learn your lessons. When you think you finally have it right, life’s dark edge—death comes to take you. With death, the bereaved are left with your ashes, your memories, loneliness and gratefulness for all that was you. Death's first strike is to leave us cold and broken. Your flag on the marble arch is a symbol for where your wedding ring sits, around the tip of your cremation urn on the fireplace mantel when not around Nikki’s beautiful neck. From the pain that is felt from walking through Life, Death brings you full circle to your eternal center—your spirit, your soul. No more broken Hallelujahs for you. This chorus of Hallelujah speaks to the glory, the sorrow, the grief that is the reality of life and love—a double-edged sword.

The next verse speaks to your very deeply personal relationship with your Knowing. It depicts how we struggle, how we question our beliefs when faced with the darkness of life. I always felt from a very early age you knew something about the spiritual, the holy, the eternal consciousness that I had not learned nor experienced. You experienced it. You gave me glimpses. You make me yearn for more.

Throughout your life, you felt too strongly and you were touched; your Lord of Song is your Lord of Knowing and it certainly did not all go wrong but you were ripe for more growing. Hallelujah, a word of praise. Hallelujah, our keyword for entry into the afterlife. Hallelujah, the language of Life defined by our emotions and character traits. Hallelujah that defined the life that you, Matthew lived. If I were to sing this song, I would want each and every emotion to be physically felt from the glorious Hallelujah. I would want to stir the soul. Your Hallelujah would be sung boldly, beautifully, loudly, softly, with long notes, short notes. The duality of your life experiences would be expressed by each element taking up half of the Hallelujah, sharing it with the other half to complete it and make it whole. In  your glorious 36 years—I offer these Hallelujahs to you.

Hallelujah (Confidence/Anxiety)

Hallelujah (Courage/Fearfulness)

Hallelujah (Trust & Loyalty/Rebellious & Disinterest)

Hallelujah (Warrior Brave/Little Boy Timid)

Hallelujah (Hope/Despair)

Hallelujah (Enthusiasm/Indifference)

Hallelujah (Friendliness/Antagonist)

Hallelujah (Peaceful/Belligerent)

Hallelujah (Physically Strong/Inwardly Fragile)

Hallelujah (Proud/Humble)

Hallelujah (Leader/Un-coachable)

Hallelujah (Joyful/Bittersweet)

Hallelujah (Triumph/Sadness)

Hallelujah (Beauty/Pain)

Hallelujah (Love/Loss)

Hallelujah (Life/Death)

Matthew you were the Man you were meant to be. You were the embodiment of life. You hit the high notes and the lows. You gave and received love, respect, admiration and trust. Your life was full, you were engaged, you were present. I am so proud of you. Maybe you always knew from a soul level that your time here was to be short. Maybe you felt your soul pact and this gave you the permission you needed to live life as heartily as you did. Your life, your love are blessings to our family. 

This completes My Story of Matt—My Story of You.

After seven months I’m rediscovering my internal core and I’m trying to move from the pain and sorrow of your death as I rediscover peace. I have so many questions.  I am a seeker of wisdom. Will you share your Knowing? Will you help me live It, experience It? My heart is open, my eyes are raised, my arms are extended. I’m saying my goodbye. I want to live the afterglow of you that rests in my heart. For having been given the opportunity of bringing you into this world, giving birth to you, raising you, loving you; I give praise to my God—I utter my own Hallelujah—my gratitude for you. I’m ready to embark on the adventure of starting anew—spirit to soul. Hello Matthew!

A final inspiration from you Matthew:

“You have to go through the whole-mess of life

             Before you can put the pieces of whole-ness together.”                                                                                                                   

I love you forever and always

Mom

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JASON, THE OTHER HALF OF MY HEART

THE ALLARD BOYS / MEN: BROTHERS FOREVER

I need to talk to you about something. Something serious, something dear, something so sensitive, something that may not have a ready answer, something that needs to be discussed, mulled over, said out loud. Mourning you and living with so much grief feels as though my motherhood balance has been thrown off kilter. What about the living siblings? What about Jason? How is he coping with the loss of a younger brother and best friend? A double whammy for sure. How does he feel about losing his sounding board, his other Gemini, his pal, his opposite, his I-never-thought-I’d-have-to-live-without-you person. Thoughts that keep running through my mind, looking for answers that are deep seated in my soul that need to find a resting place in my heart. The sadness and sorrow over losing you has colored my world gray. When I can wipe away the tears and the reality of life comes into better focus, my thoughts turn to Jason and his struggles with grief. Struggles—thank goodness for Beth. She can help him. Struggles that I know nothing about. Initially our journeys through grief are isolating until our own path is illuminated a bit. I have all of my siblings. I have never experienced the loss of a brother or sister or a best friend. I can have empathy, an ear for the ready, arms that comfort yet I can’t fix this one for him just as I could not fix you when you suffered the loss of your half-brother Andrew. At times I wonder if I am even there for him. So caught up in my own grief, my loss and how it is affecting my life—I go through days thinking of you, concentrating on you and your family and then I am jolted by the thought that Jason is alive, ALIVE with a family of his own and I can’t get beyond you. He has been so gracious in his understanding. We have had this conversation and I want to assure him that he had my heart first as my eldest child. Just feel like some of my feelings and emotions are freeze-dried at the moment. Feeling so inadequate. This is the first time in my mother’s life that I am experiencing an unequal division in my being present in your lives. My thinking time, my feeling time is divided unfairly. Unfairly in his life, really. Your life is no longer here and I guess I don’t quite know what to do with that yet. I hate this. I need to reboot his half of my heart, feel the beats, the pumping blood, and the organ that is life. Awareness then action. How do other parents deal with the act of temporarily leaving behind those that have already been left behind? Help me please, I need to know. 

The weather is warmer. I’ve been enjoying the quietness of the backyard; soaking in the colors in nature. The browns and greens of the trees, the blue and white of the sky, the oranges, purples, pinks and whites of the flowers, the grays of the stone wall, the rustiness of the earth and dried leaf cover. I gaze at the pool—the rippling of the water. I see the diving board and memories of your growing up years flood my consciousness. I feel peaceful, pensive and out of nowhere, while listening to the sounds of nature, looking at a butterfly flutter it's wings; this internal (I don't know what to call it) starts from the pit of my stomach—rumble I guess it is—and I can feel it move up to my throat. Internal thunder, and suddenly like the roar and clap you'd hear from a stormy sky, my mouth opens, my lips quiver and I release the rumble, a powerful burst of instant sorrow. Sometimes it's a sound, a cry, other times a silent scream; it makes my eyes tear up. The birds stop singing yet continue to fly casting shadows my way. Eerie. My natural world joins me in a moment of silence, a moment of remembrance. This is the physical-ness of missing you. One of my moments, and then life starts up again.

With Jason at the forefront of my thoughts these days, I discover that if I stay present and in the moment when saying hello, the exact opposite reaction of what I have just described is created within me. Upon seeing him, I inhale forcefully for a second. My heart skips a beat. I feel a flutter in my chest. There is an expansion not a contraction that happens to my entire being. My shoulders rise up. My face glows. My mouth breaks into a wide smile. My eyes light up as I am greeted by this beautiful man radiating love. He throws his arms around me in the warmest embrace. We share an I-love-you-I-am-so-grateful-for-you kind of hug. My love for him is powerful, protective; a complete heart encompassing love and a hello or goodbye becomes an I-am-so-happy-you-are-alive moment. A moment of silence follows where life is put on pause and we mindfully engage in the hug. Hugs that we know can be permanently altered by a Force more powerful than the two of us. A moment of pure joy that is helping us rebuild our house of happiness. A moment between a mother and a son that needs no words as the language of familial love is expressing itself. . . yet words are spoken. “I am so happy you are alive” I say to him and “I am so happy you are alive” he says to me. Our greetings go beyond the I Love You’s nowadays. Life starts up again. This is the beginning of our healing together and not separately. I may have missed that moment had I not said it aloud!

Your death has changed our hugs, the way we look at life, jump its hurdles, embrace it, live it, love it—while holding on to the essence of you, the other half of my heart. Two halves make a whole. The rhythm is just off. 

What I have learned this week is that opposites in personality complement each other by enriching each other’s lives. Jason’s rational and logical mind taught you structure and your creative, live life fully in the moment attitude allowed him to risk a little. One of many enrichments that made you as close as you are/were. Your personalities are/were gregarious, charming, warm and inviting. You both made people laugh in your own ways. You educated us to the fact that dingoes will steal your babies! Combined, you were a force to be reckoned with—the Allard boys. Crowd pleasers. Competitive. Athletic. Handsome. Hard workers. As much as you were alike you also have/had characteristics that make/made you unique. One social director always planning, one biggest fan of the party always appreciative and enjoying. Amazing fathers, loving husbands and boys that made/make their parents very proud. It is so important to appreciate the differences and recognize that your lives would never have been the same without each other. Finding a way to move forward when you feel like you’ve lost a half of yourself—difficult, overwhelming, confusing. Together you were great. Walking alone, just as great. Perhaps a bit taller with a longer stride as the journey through grief teaches us how to combine rather than leave behind and discover wholeness once again. 

Watch over your brother, watch over me—please?

Love you so much – forever.

Mom 

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182.62 DAYS / SIX MONTHS

SUMMER MATT / BEARDLESS

What happens in six months? Seasons come and seasons go; we move our clocks ahead or we let time fall back; a child dies; grief takes hold.

GRIEF–I’ve been thinking about its hold all week long. Six months, our half marathon. I’ve never gone this long without seeing you. I’ve relived the day of the accident like it was Groundhog Day, forcing myself to try and remember. Not the actual impact–there is no reason to go there; the aftermath, when I met Grief. Didn’t actually meet Grief. It came as an uninvited guest, a squatter that slithered into my body; entered through my ear actually when Jason had to make that fateful call. “Mom there’s been an accident. Matty is dead.” NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!!!!!!! I felt my body crumble to the floor. A foreign body entered my system at that moment. Slowly with determination it flowed through my veins and spread out to my tendons, muscles and bones. It travelled to every organ leaving its imprint and settled in my heart. It broke my heart. A Mother’s heart cannot contain that much grief. Grief is like a virus that remains dormant, latency is what it is called. At any moment it can rear its ugly head. It enjoys cold, rainy, gray days. When it arises, it covers me like a cloak and stalks my every waking minute.  It makes a pronounced appearance at your monthly anniversary dates and all of the special FIRSTS that make up the celebration of you.

I’ve learned that there is no good that comes from battling with Grief. I stand firm, I hold my ground. I take a deep breath. Grief no longer frightens me. I have met the enemy and have looked into its eyes. It is stealthy in its approach, yearning to feed on my pain. My strength comes not from fighting but in my faith and patience knowing that it will retreat. So Grief, wash over me–I will not surrender. I’ll wait you out in silent reflection, mindless television and a good read. Six months, 182.62 days and I am studying Grief. I’m learning how to live with the squatter. I’m learning to sit with the uncomfortableness.

I’ve also learned to identify the physical symptoms of trauma.  My mind is like Teflon some days, my legs go in different directions and my feet trip each other. I’ve stopped sticking out my tongue checking to see if it is straight assuring myself that I am not having a stroke.

I’ve learned that I can have moments of joy that will fill the space that Happiness held when you were on this physical plane. It’s not the same but for now I have my memories of Happiness.

I’ve learned that the amount of love and support we’ve received from family, friends, acquaintances and our online community is humbling. . . and they have not all been properly thanked. Caroline was simply amazing in helping to organize your Viewing and Memorial Service along with an assist from Kristen. Friends and neighbors that delivered food, flowers, and donations to the Education and Memorial Fund established in your name were aplenty. Hugs when you need them, phone calls when you least expect them.  Gifts from the heart to help heal our broken hearts. Nicki from daycare gave me the most beautiful picture of Bear Bear in remembrance of Father’s Day. She is a connected stranger, someone I did not formally meet till I went to thank her. She was thinking of how difficult the day would be and gave me a treasure. Inspirational words appear as comments and private messages of hope and encouragement. Gifts from the heart!

I’ve learned that a friend that sits through tears in a public place is like a blanket of comfort. I was having breakfast this week with two gals that are dear to my heart. Ed Sheeran’s ‘Thinking Out Loud’ song started to play in the dining room of a local eatery and you know I melt down like butter over an open flame when I hear yours and Nikki’s song. She left her side of the booth, came and sat with me and held my hand throughout the song. I’ve learned that I will probably always have moments but I do not have to hide these moments. I am supported in however long it takes in this process of grieving.

I’ve learned how to be a better friend. I’ve learned that I can provide comfort with words and actions to those Mothers in the same position as myself or for those grieving in general.

I’ve learned that you have to breathe fully when dancing with Grief. Andrew Weil’s 4-7-8 breath exercise is a true healer.

I’ve learned that Moms and Dads grieve differently but how to comfort and console when needed.

I’ve learned that I will always have two sons. One alive, living locally and the other who has moved to Heaven.

I’ve learned that Signs from you keep us connected. I’ve overcome the fear that I will miss your Signs. I’ve learned to open my heart and wait . . . wait . . . wait.

I have learned that the question “How are you doing” drives me flipshitty crazy. I want to scream “my son died; how do you think I’m doing?” I remember that the words are nothing more than a greeting from the grocery store cashier or words of concern from those connected with our tragedy. There has to be another opener . . . Good day to you (from the cashier). I’ve been thinking of you; I’m so happy I ran into you, I remembered a special story about Matt (from family and friends). I’ve learned that some folks are just uncomfortable with death and don’t understand that a hug, a smile and silence serves as a fine greeting.

I’ve learned that I love hearing your name–constantly! I love when people remember you and talk about you. Words keep your flame alive.

I’ve learned that I will always love you . . . present tense, not past as love never dies.

It may be raining on the inside for me as I reflect on your six month anniversary day. Yet, I feel so close to you when I write you letters. That’s a ray of sunshine, isn’t it?

Remembering you . . .

TODAY

Six months today

You went away

Embarked on a journey

Like no other.

Your Spirit soared

To your new Home

Life’s mission

For you here is over.

Left behind

With your love and memories

Finding our way

Through the

Grief and sorrow.

Tears flow

Laughter prevails

Gratefulness fills our hearts

You are never far away.

Rest in Peace my Love.

Love you so much – forever.

Mom 

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HAPPY DADDY'S DAY!

FATHER'S DAY TRIBUTE TO MATTHEW

This is our family's Father's Day tribute to Matthew. You'll find letters from Nikki–Matty's Wife, Jason his older Brother and Beth his Sister in Law and Wingwoman. Bruce and I have added our tributes as Gammy and Bampy.

LETTER FROM NIKKI

Daddy,

As Father's Day inched its way closer, I felt even more sad than usual. I am not sad for myself, but for you. You are not physically here so that we can give you the proper celebration that you deserve. I hope that as you look over us you can sit back, truly appreciate and feel what you have created for us. You've created this life filled with some of the most kind hearted friends and family. The life you left behind far too soon is truly a blessed one that was created by you, solely based on the type of person that you were in your physical being. What you have left has created light and hope for everyone to stay strong and push forward. What you have left for us is our children. You should be proud, over the top kind of proud.

           

Addy talks about you daily, sometimes on her own and sometimes it is provoked. She sees you she says. She is special like you, she is you! You have left a mark on that little girl that she will never forget. You were so good to her, to me, to us. Addy and her teachers made you a gift. The gift is of balloons smothered in tiny lip marks and hand prints that your beautiful firstborn created. You will see our balloons today. Addy is so excited to get them to you that I've already had to chase them down twice!!

Bear's first word, "Dada" ironically. We often talk about how you would just be head over heels for this guy. He is everything you described as perfect. His smile fills the room, as did yours. He is all love, just like you. There is so much love compacted into that rather large, "little" butterball. He will remember you through me, family and the friends that are like family to us. We will tell him the most wonderful stories of the kind hearted, organic Father that you were. I can only pray he becomes half of the man that you were.

           

Your role as Father trumped everything. It made you beam and it came so naturally to you. You were so comfortable with that role and you nailed it. It thoroughly completed you. And watching you take the role in stride completed me. So I hope that today you can sit back and truly enjoy the family that you created. You've blessed me with two of the most incredible tiny humans a Mother could ask for. I truly believe that you are still with us every day. Please celebrate yourself with us today, you deserve it. We miss you more than I can put into words. We love you eternally. Happy Father's Day Daddy. MLA 13  

Love,

Mommy, Addy & Bear Bear

LETTER FROM JASON

So............here I am on Father's day blessed to have a wonderful family!  I have two beautiful daughters, a wonderful wife, wonderful parents, tremendous friends, and just an amazing family.  So why is there an empty feeling inside that screams "there's something missing".  That's because my brother is no longer here to celebrate these wonderful things in life that we are so blessed to have.  Its truly amazing that we can love someone so much that even with so many amazing people in our life that empty feeling can still affect us so profoundly.

My brother Matthew was a beautiful father, and an amazing man......this is evident from the crazy beautiful son and daughter he left behind.  Fatherhood was something I never quite knew how it  would take to Matty.  I knew he liked doing things when he wanted, how he wanted and with whom he wanted.  What I later found out was not only did all of that change, but it was he who forced the change and did so happily.  It wasn't his kids who forced him to alter his ways, this was done on his own accord and for people who knew my brother this is no small feat!  His enormous love for his children ALLOWED him to become this wonderful father, this amazing new husband, and just a better man.  Today being Father's Day I reflect on the man my brother was because these are the memories I have that I can look back on and smile while crying thinking...."even though my brother is gone, there are still things he can teach me on how to become better myself".  And for that Matty.......I will always be grateful to you.  I love you Nooge, Happy Father's Day.

LETTER FROM BAAATS

Happy Father's Day! On this day I celebrate my husband and how I love him more because of the amazing father he is. I also have a sadness in my heart remembering those I have lost. My own father and my brother-in-law Matthew Allard.

Matthew....I have to start by saying you were, as your brother is, an amazing father. I never had a doubt that you would be. I saw it in the first time you held my daughter, Jaelyn, the love you could just see beaming from you. I knew at that moment that when you had your own children you would love them to the ends of the earth with a love that would encompass your whole being. Of course when I saw you with Addy, it came to pass. I knew you would be a great daddy and love your children with all your heart, and play with them and be a big part of their lives. However, I have to say I was a bit apprehensive , knowing Nikki's night hours at work, that you would be taking care of a little baby all on your own. Sorry Matty! I think most moms are always a little nervous about Dads watching the kids on their own. Matty also use to say things Dads say like, "I will never change a Poopy (well he said other words) diaper", etc. So, here is Matty, watching little Addy at like 8 weeks old. Well he sure proved me wrong. Matty was right in there, doing such an amazing job. He changed all kinds of diapers including blow-outs, held her after crying for long hours, rocked her, sang to her, constantly whispering in her ear how much he loved her, and just did all things you need to do to take care of an infant.  I have to say I was so proud of him. When people use to ask me how he was doing as a new Dad, I would love to say he was doing soo great and how he was changing diapers like it was second nature to him. Yes, we did see him like once a week for dinner at our house so Auntie Baaats could do some holding time and help out a little, but even at our house he was always ready to do it all. He use to be so proud that he could wrap up a dirty diaper better than anyone could ( of course there had to be some competition in there).

I do have to tell one funny story. Matty was coming to our house for dinner. He use to come over and cook and I would watch Addy. He was food shopping and Addy was just crying the whole time and he took a picture and sent it to us. When I saw the picture, I was laughing because there she was crying in the shopping cart in her car seat, but the straps to her car seat were too low over her arms trapping them down so she couldn't move. So I was thinking of a way to tell Matty the correct way of strapping her in without offending him. When he was leaving that night and putting Addy in the carseat I was like, "Matthew you may want to put the staps over her shoulders like this because they were a little low in the picture". Of course the typical Matty response, "She is fine Baats, you don't know what you are talking about". He did fix them though!

The love and care he gave to Addy is evident in how much she loves him. The way she looked at him will always be etched in my mind. And for Bear, he was soo proud to have a son and soo proud to name him Bear. As hard as it is to think of him not being here with his children who he loved soo much, I know he is still with them, loving them and watching over them as fiercely as he would be here on earth.

Love you Matty! Happy Fathers Day!
Baaats

 

MATTHEW AGE 10 UNTITLED PASTEL OILS

LETTER FROM GAMMY & MEMORIES FROM BAMPY

Happy Father’s Day Son! Daddy’s Day, your first Father’s Day with both of your little kiddos. I know you are with them. I see the signs daily. I am so very proud of you. I’ve watched your character, integrity, maturity and your love grow like a seedling to a sapling to a full grown mature tree. Nature is a marvelous work of wonder. Trees can be a metaphor for life. The tree’s trunk continually grows thicker every year. A layer of new bark grows to protect the inner layers that remain alive and vibrant. A mature tree grows branches, limbs, buds and produces foliage in the most brilliant hues of greens, yellows and reds. So big, so beautiful. The bark of the tree gets discolored, nicked and gouged throughout its life cycle, showing its age. The elements may cause branches to break and fall yet nature seals over that exposed part of wood and the tree continues to stand tall. Roots grow deep and the tree is anchored from below. A tree may develop a disease and ultimately may find itself facing its demise or continues to stand tall as a sentry watching over its piece of earth and sky for hundreds of years. From life comes life. From death comes renewal. You are much like the mighty tree. I’ve seen you through your infant/toddler, young boy, teenage years and watched you blossom into maturity. Nobody gets through life without nicks and gouges. You’ve weathered quite a few storms while learning your Earthly lessons. You’ve patched yourself up and carried on. Your family grounded you. You were their protector, teaching them to trust while you circled your arms around them and filled their hearts with love and their minds with a sense of security. You continue to stand tall and strong in our hearts and minds Matthew. I oftentimes look out the dining room window at our Magick Tree.  It has become a point of reflection and comfort. My children’s Christmas story, The Legend of the Magick Tree seems so timely since your passing. It looks more alive than ever. Its mission is to protect the grandchildren and help to eliminate any fears they have of the dark. I wonder if you don’t come to visit and take up temporary residence! I swear that beautiful, old so alive looking tree is helping me shed my fears of life without you; guiding me as I face them, walk through them and conquer them one by one as I slowly find my new kind of normal. Bittersweet.

Your personality was big from birth. I was fortunate to have seen you through so many years of your life cycle. This year for Father’s Day I would like to give you the gift of words—having Addy & Bear see you through their Gammy and Bampy’s eyes. We talk to you, pray to you and for you, look at pictures and videos and keep your memories alive in our hearts. It is a pleasure, an honor to do so for your children. We will begin by telling those tales of what you were like when you were young. Grammar School young. We will hold onto our memories of your teen years, college days and after the diploma years for when they are older. MUCH OLDER. . . for future Father’s Days.  But before we move on, I just had one those why-can’t-I-pick-up-the-phone-and-call-you moments with Addy. We had a sleepover Friday night and when she wakes up Saturday morning, the first thing she says to me is “Gammy, how you know people?”  And I say, “Well honey, which people do you mean?” And she replies “ Like Auntie Baaats and Jaelyn”. Puts such a smile on my face and yet fear in my soul because I have not had an easy time getting her to understand the Mommy/Daddy/Brother/Son concepts  yet. She gets angry with me because in her mind, you can’t be my son and her Daddy at the same time and I can’t be anyone’s Mommy just her Gammy. So, tread lightly I did and I saved the relationship without any further damage and apparently the explanation sufficed because the questions ended! I would love to spend time in their little heads. See how those gears move. What a way to wake up! Glorious!! We would have laughed hysterically over this one.

Here is our gift to you:

ONCE UPON A TIME . . . DADDY

Once upon a time there was a beautiful baby boy named Matthew Laurent Allard. He had a head full of thick, brown, wavy hair and very big brown eyes. Anyone that looked into those eyes would instantly fall in love with him. He was a good little baby and slept a lot which made Gammy very happy! He had an older brother named Jason whom he loved very much and who took very good care of his baby brother. Just like you take care of Bear, Addy!

When Gammy went back to work, your Daddy & Uncle Jason went to daycare like you and Bear Bear. Your Daddy’s first teacher was called Sister Diane. She had the same first name as Gammy. You know that Gammy’s name is Diane Romagnoli, right? Addy you’ve changed my last name to Muckanoli haven’t you?? You’re a silly, funny little girl just like your Daddy. He loved to make people laugh. Anyway, your Daddy was very confused that his teacher had the same name as Gammy and Daddy never called me Diane. He only called me Mommy. He decided he was going to call her ‘Sister Mommy’, and Sister Diane loved her new name!

One of Gammy’s favorite stories of your Daddy is another daycare story. Uncle Jason was in pre-kindergarten and your Dad was 2 years old. On the way home after Gammy picked up her boys, they would talk about what they learned in school that day. Uncle Jason said “I learned how to spell today. DOG - - d. . .o. . .g. . .dog”. Even at 2 years old, your Daddy was very competitive. He liked to win or be as good as the other guy and he says “Oh yeah, I can spell too”. Uncle Jason gives him a test and says “Well spell CAT”. Your Daddy then lets Uncle Jason know that he can only spell the easy words! (You will find this story very funny when you get a little older and can spell yourself).

Daddy’s favorite clothes when he was little were Osh Gosh B Gosh overalls in all the different colors they made. Think of him the next time you wear your Osh Gosh overalls!

When it came time for your Daddy and Uncle Jason to go to elementary school, Bampy would drive them to school every day. They would listen to their favorite songs “Puff the Magic Dragon” by Peter, Paul & Mary and “The Unicorn Song” by the Irish Rovers. Their favorite part was:

. . .Green alligators and long-necked geese

Some Humpty backed camels and some chimpanzees

Some cats and rats and elephants, but sure as you’re born

Don’t you forget my unicorns. . .

I bet if you ask Uncle Jason, he’ll sing it for you!! They would listen to those songs over and over and over again, every single day. It made them happy and was a good way to start their school days.

When Daddy was 5 years old he decided that he loved to break-dance. It was a new style of dancing that was very fast. Your feet moved around a lot, you did back spins and head spins. Daddy never took lessons. He just made up his own moves. He decided to enter a dance competition at the Palace Theater which was a very big deal at 5 years old. He did not win but definitely made an impression on the people that attended the competition. When we were leaving there were 2 busloads of high school kids who had boarded the bus and were ready to go home. When they saw your Daddy they started yelling “Baby Break, Baby Break”. They were hanging out of the windows of the buses. Their hands were waving wildly. They were so a’cited, Addy! Your Daddy stopped and gave them the ‘Princess Wave’ and they cheered even louder.  Now, 5 years old, that is how old Jaelyn and Elouise are! Your Daddy was so brave. He did not get scared when trying new things. That is a very good lesson for you to learn. And, even if you don’t win it doesn’t mean that you did not have the BEST time, and having a good time is what your Daddy loved to do.

A lot of these stories are about Daddy and Uncle Jason. That’s because Bampy’s greatest wish was that the two brothers would be BEST Friends forever. And Bampy’s dream came true. They are BEST friends so you see, it is very hard to tell a story with just your Daddy or just Uncle Jason. They were like two peas in a pod. Uncle Jason was the brother that studied hard all the time. He made sure your Daddy did his homework as soon as they got home from school – even before they went out to play. When Uncle Jason was 8  years old, he wrote his first novel and it is called “1610”. It’s a great story about how Native Americans fought all these vicious dinosaurs. I still have a copy. Would you like Gammy to read it as our next bedtime story at our next sleepover? Now, your Daddy was only 6 years old and he was just starting to learn to write and spell, so instead of writing a book, he created this Art Masterpiece called “POEPLE”. He drew a whole book of different kinds of people. Tall ones, short ones, Mommy ones, Daddy ones. He got his letters mixed up in writing the title of the book but it is one of my favorites right up there with Uncle Jason’s “1610”. Having your brother as your BEST friend is very special. It makes you very, very happy and your BEST friend is always very close by to play with, to share your secrets and to help solve problems when you get older.

Your Daddy was a thinker . . . a philosopher (yes that is a big word for someone that thinks a lot). He loved weddings and attended quite a few. At one wedding, the man taking videos captured him on tape giving this advice to all newlyweds regarding the cake cutting ceremony—your Daddy said “. . .they might want to take off their wedding clothes before they cut the cake so they don’t get them all dirty!!” Funny, funny Daddy. And smart, smart Daddy. He would think of ways to do things so that he didn’t need Gammy’s help. When we moved into a new house and he was 2  years old, his bedroom was on the 2^nd floor—like where you and Mommy and Bear live is on top of Mimi’s and Papaw’s. Daddy needed to put the light on in the stairwell so that he could see. He was not tall enough to reach the light switch so he would take one of Gammy’s high heeled shoes and use the tip of the heel to turn on the light! He was independent. I think you get that from him Addy. We’ll have to wait until Bear is a little older and you can teach him to be independent too.

Your Daddy loved to play sports. When he was little he played soccer, hockey, football and baseball. When he got older and was in high school he played on the Soccer Team, Ski Team, Tennis Team and Hockey Team. And even when he was out of school he continued to play soccer and softball and hockey and GOLF. He had long hair in high school and used to wear his hair in a ponytail at the top back of his head to keep it out of his eyes. He looked like a Samurai warrior. Gammy will show you pictures. He was a handsome boy, with a great big smile and a laugh that would make you laugh just listening to him laugh. We call that infectious laughter. Infectious sounds nasty like when we catch a cold but here it’s kind of like our Dr. Seuss’s Sleep Book. Do you remember when Van Vleck started yawning and it was very catchy . . . and how we all yawn when we read that bedtime story? That is what infectious means.

Bampy’s favorite story is how your Daddy fell in love with a little song bird called a Mourning Dove. She would sing her song first thing in the morning outside of your Daddy’s bedroom window. She would coo and coo and Daddy knew it was a special song just for him. He first heard the little birdie when we moved to the Farm on Joppa Hill Rd. We lived there for a few years and then moved to the house Gammy and Bampy live in now. To your Daddy’s excitement, the Mourning Dove moved with us and she continued to coo and coo for your Daddy. Daddy loved everything about Nature. Pay attention to all of the outside sounds you hear. It is Nature’s Symphony, the music of the birds and tree peepers, the owls, the sound of the wind rustling leaves and the pitter patter of raindrops falling from the sky. If you pay attention, every day you will hear a new song.

At 10 years old, Daddy decided that he wanted to be different and when he needed glasses to see the blackboard, he asked Gammy to buy him these big RED glasses. He loved them and he was the only boy in school with glasses like that. Being different was ‘no big deal’ to Daddy. He always looked at people from the inside to see what their heart was like. The outside of people, the way they looked, the way they dressed did not matter to him. If you were beautiful on the inside, Daddy would have collected you as one of his friends.

Uncle Jason and Daddy were born 2 years and 4 days apart. We always celebrated their birthdays together. There was always a Carvel Ice Cream cake and the house rule was that the birthday person got to eat the last piece of cake. Bampy and Gammy always made sure there were two pieces left when it was their birthdays. Birthdays also got you the privilege of getting your favorite meal made for dinner. Daddy’s was Chicken a la King. He didn’t know what it was called so he called it ‘Chicken in White Sauce with Mashed Potatoes, Carrots and Peas”! He would eat the BIGGEST dish every birthday. On one very special birthday, Gammy took your Daddy and Uncle Jason to NY City. We went to see Uncle Ray and he took us to Washington Square Park where all the famous skateboarders hung out. Daddy and Uncle Jason were big fans of skateboarding. Daddy and Uncle Jason got some very funky haircuts at a famous barber shop at Astor Place. Gammy still does not know what she was thinking back then!!

Daddy’s favorite Christmas when he was little was the year Bamby and Gammy bought a MYRA hockey jacket for both Uncle Jason and he. Navy Blue corduroy with big letters M Y R A on the back of the jacket. Just like the hockey players in the big leagues! They also got their first 2-wheeler bikes that Christmas as well. They were so happy. Gammy and Bampy got some BIG hugs and many Thank Yous that day! Daddy always held gratefulness in his heart. Saying 'please' and 'thank you' was very important to Daddy. It is part of being polite and respectful. Daddy thought this was one of the most important lessons he learned.

Daddy loved to invent games. He liked to use his imagination when he played. One year when the Summer Olympics were going on, Daddy and Uncle Jason gathered all of their neighborhood friends and we had our own 2-weeks of swimming and diving and whoever could come up with the silliest dives off of the diving board races and competitions. TOTTY Ball was Daddy’s diving board invention that summer. He and his friend Todd thought up the game – Todd and Matty = TOTTY. When Gammy would come home from work, before we even had dinner, my job was to be the judge and give out medals. We had so much fun that summer! When you have a lot of fun it creates a memory. A story that we can tell and tell and tell and still have as much fun hearing it after 3 times told as we did when we heard it the first time. Now, Addy–I think your favorite story is still Daddy at 2 years old watching the gorilla in his cage at Benson’s Wild Animal Farm. That story is a memory. And you laugh and laugh every time you ask Gammy to tell it to you, and I do. (We’ll have to make sure Bear Bear hears that story when he gets a little older.) Making a lot of memories is a happy way to live your life.

My very last story about your Daddy when he was little is called The Werewolf. One Halloween, Gammy sewed werewolf costumes for your Daddy and Uncle Jason. They were 3 and 5 years old and Gammy was STILL dressing them alike. The costumes were gray, make believe fur with matching hoods with WOLF eyes and fangs. The costume even had mittens with claws . . . SCARY!. Halloween costumes usually only get worn once on that very special day – trick or treating day. Your Daddy however, had a different plan in mind. Daddy was the youngest boy in our neighborhood that had more girls that lived there than boys. There were two twin girls that picked on your Daddy all the time just because he was the youngest. They were mean girls! Daddy was tired of being picked on. One day he came into the house crying and he devised a plan to SCARE those girls and teach them a lesson. It was the middle of July, hot and really humid. Daddy went into his closet and took down the werewolf costume. I help him get dressed. All the kids were playing on our front lawn waiting for him to come out of the house. Your Daddy opens the door and jumps onto the landing and yells the very loudest yell I have ever heard ROOOOAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!! The twin girls came running over to him and started to pet him saying . . . “nice kitty, nice kitty”. Daddy’s plan did not work and he learned about being disappointed that day. Mean girls are not nice girls. They hurt feelings. Daddy learned that your heart does not feel good when your feelings get hurt. If your first plan does not work, you have to think of another one. Daddy learned to be kind to others and to never give up.

So you see, your Daddy was a very special little boy. He was smart, funny, happy, kind and brave. He was athletic, he liked to win but he also learned how to lose. He did not give up. He tried and he tried again. Daddy would want Gammy & Bampy to help teach you these lessons. Daddy’s life was a happy life and he loved living it.

Happy Daddy’s Day Daddy!

. . . and your Daddy is giving both of you a gift of words on this day.

FOREVER THINGS

The Sun, the Moon,

The Rain, the Breeze.

The Stars, the Sky

Our Magick Tree.

You see them.

You hear them.

You feel them.

They are real.

A Daddy’s Love,

His kisses,

His hugs,

His wishes for you are real.

Things are different now,

Between you and me.

. . . Just for a little while.

You can’t see me

Or hear me.

Or feel me,

From the Outside.

But,

If you open your heart,

Be very quiet and still,

And close your eyes,

You’ll feel me.

You’ll hear me.

You’ll see me.

I’m on the Inside now.

When you see a Mourning Dove,

Listen for its’ Coo.

I’ve come home to build a nest

And live right next to you.

That flutter you feel in your heart

Is me Hugging you.

When you feel a tickle in your ear.

 I’m Whispering sweet things to you.

I’m a thought,

A nudge,

I’m in your Dreams.

My Love is all around you.

I’ll protect you,

I’ll guide you

Call out my name.

Whenever you need.

I’m by your side always,

I’m your Daddy.

I Love you.

I’m your Forever Thing.

So ends our Father’s Day tribute to you Matthew. Ever so present. Ever so admired. Ever so missed. Ever so loved.

Love you so much—forever.

Mom aka Gammy

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