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Life Without Matthew.....by Mom |
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My Mom is a Survivor...
But like the sands on the beach that never
wash away...I watch over my surviving mom, who thinks of me each day.
She wears a smile for others...a smile of
disguise.
But through Heaven's door I see tears flowing from her eyes.
My mom tries to cope with death to keep my
memory alive.
But anyone who knows her knows it is her way to survive.
As I watch over my surviving mom...through
Heaven's open door.
I try to tell her that angels protect me forever more.
But I know that doesn't help her or ease the
burden she bears.
So if you get a chance, go visit her...And show her that you
care. For no matter what she says...no matter what she feels. My surviving mom has a broken heart that time won't ever heal!
Written by Kaye Des'Ormeaux |
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Tuesday, November 1, 2005: Last evening was so very difficult hearing all the children laughing. I see them with the most important person missing from the group.... Matthew. It’s so very difficult knowing that Matthew is not with them. I can see the excitement but I feel nothing.
This morning as I look out the window, the trees and clouds are still - just as my time is, motionless. I thank them, as they have seemed to stop with me if only for a short time.
My grief clutches and holds onto almost every breath I take. It is a most powerful and forceful feeling as it takes over.
My disbelief and reality is like a seesaw. One minute I’m telling myself this didn’t happened to Matthew…..not my family..…not us – just stop it - enough is enough. Then it's force strikes me with its most powerful blow – reality - I’m living without Matthew.
I hope each day for a sign of his presence – ask for him to move the curtain, move that pencil, have the lights come on..…please anything. I pray to God each night please let Matthew come to me in my dreams. I cling to these hopes and prayers.
My positive is that I continue to take comfort and peace in knowing I will see Matthew again.
Monday, October 31, 2005: It’s Monday morning and I haven’t slept since Saturday. I was awake all night thinking, hurting, and crying. My missing and longing for Matthew is so intense, it paralyzes my body, mind and soul.
I want Halloween to disappear. Matthew loved Halloween. When he was smaller, he would only go to a few houses because he wanted to be home giving out the treats. This year I’m running away because I know I will have many tears with every knock at my door. Children do not want to go to a door with a lady handing out treats as she is wipes away her tears.
I compare my mind these days to taking a leisurely stroll instead of a brisk walk. Up to seven months ago I could whip around the kitchen. The other night a tin of mushrooms stayed in my hand for about 2 minutes before my mind let me know what I had to do next - yes Desma you need a can opener. Setting the table is usually a 30 second job – this now takes 2 minutes before my brain understands what has to go on the table. Multi-tasking at work is virtually impossible. My processing and reasoning use to be so fast, but now I can only handle and deal with one problem at a time and within that problem I become confused. My mind doesn’t stop missing Matthew.
I have nothing positive that I can write today....maybe tomorrow!
Saturday, October 29, 2005: I’m having such a hard afternoon. My missing and longing for Matthew is so overwhelming. As I type I have to wipe away my tears so I can see the screen. I just want him back so bad. In my mind I can picture him so vividly – tall handsome young man but still my baby.
Watching Rod leave the house for his first game of hockey this morning was so difficult. As he carries out the filled water bottles the most important part is missing – Matthew carrying out his hockey bag slung over his shoulder and a “see ya mom” with a kiss on the cheek as he goes out the door. I can feel the kiss on my cheek and it makes my legs weak. I used to tell him when he kissed me “that the kiss would go from the top of my head, to the tip of my toes”. When he was smaller he used to say, “Where did that kiss go mom? Did that one only go to your elbow?” He would then give me kisses until the kisses went to the top of my head to the tip of my toes.
Where do all these tears come from? Over these last seven months, I have cried enough tears to make Windsor Lake jealous.
I haven’t written any positive in a while because I had none to write. As I try to think of a positive, I think of the NTV program, which honoured Matthew’s memory. I think of all the people who have watched the program and have learned about him and who have been touched by his story. Just imagine how many people will know Matthew when it’s their turn to go to Heaven.
Friday, October 28, 2005: Before my eyes opened this morning the tears flowed down my cheeks. Thinking about having to start another day my tears turn to sobs. I said to Rod, “I’m not going to work today, I can’t do it”. He covered the blankets around me and gets up to go to work. As I lay in bed thinking and sobbing I sense a little push and hear a little “come on mom, you’ll feel a little better when your up”. I sit up on the bed and sing out to Rod “wait for me, I’m going to try”.
The below was written by Uncle Dann and I want to share his writings today:
This week has been a mixed bag of emotions. The special
on the NTV news brought both sadness and, believe it or
not, happiness as we remembered our grief, but also our
wonderful memories of Matt. We remember the holes in his
shirttails because puppy Harley would always chase Matt,
invariably catching hold and pulling him toward him. We
remember those same t-shirts with food stains on them
because Poppy Brett said it was OK to use your shirt to
wipe your hands. We remember you telling us about Matt's
concern for us when we thought Meaghan might not be born
and his questions like "Mom, what will I say to her?"
when Meaghan would come to visit as a newborn. He was
always so concerned about others and their feelings. We
remember how carefully he first held Meaghan when she
was born. His hands were always so gentle looking and
his eyes so kind. We cherish the pictures we have of
Matt holding Meaghan and the one of her first birthday
where she held on to Matthew's first baby shoes.
Thank-you Poppy Brett for making it a tradition! We
remember all the hours Matt spent in the water when we
went to Florida and on our unplanned "stopover" in
Toronto. Boy did he LOVE the water! We remember the
proud looks in both of your eyes when you would tell us
of Matt's current activities. We remember Matthew
visiting us in Bonavista and wanting to climb up on the
top of the Cabot statue...much to your chagrin! We
remember a little boy just learning how to tell time
call us in Bonavista to ask what time it was and to say,
"gee, you are two minutes ahead of us!" We remember the
thumping sounds around your house as almost every child
in Portugal Cove, it seemed, played spotlight outside
your house...the gathering spot. And if it wasn't
spotlight, it was hockey. We remember the "circus" bike
and hearing the "circus theme music" being hummed as all
the kids rode it; thanks to Uncle Dann! We remember the
Christmas Eve movie ritual we had (and miss). Matthew,
Dann and Rod just HAD to see Lord of the Rings
together!! All three movies! We remember going to the
Leaf's hockey games and how excited Matt was. He had to
sit by his Dad and Uncle Dann! They loved to crack jokes
together. We remember the times spent betting on who
would win Survivor. Matthew would always be sure his
pick was it! We remember so many things and as time goes
by, we remember more of the happier times we had as a
family. Matthew loved life and lived life to the
fullest. He has truly taught all of us who knew him, and
a lot of people who did not, how we should cherish our
lives and our family. Thank-you Desma, Rod and the NTV
crew for showing the world our little piece of heaven.
Sunday, October 23, 2005: Today was the first day I went through Matthew’s closet without my legs crumbling to the floor. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done. Rod said maybe I wasn’t ready but I felt I needed and wanted to. After 3 hours sat on the floor in his closet with his sneakers on my feet. My top was so wet from my tears I could ring it out. I could smell his presence as I touched his clothes hanging above me. Over and over I thought to myself, How God, can this be real? After three hours of going through my treasure I felt like I needed to explore more. In my despair I felt strong.
My treasures in Matt's closet :I looked at his hockey card collection that we spent hours sorting by hockey teams last winter. His collection of Pokemon cards, which he had outgrown but not parted with were there also. Every St. John’s Maple Leaf game ticket stub of games Matthew attended were placed in a small box along with prized collection of guitar magazines.
There is a copy of the Newfoundland Herald dated March 1998, “Meet the Athlete” eight-year-old Matthew Churchill.
His still closed book bag, which was last opened just before Easter vacation, contained his homework agenda. The last entry in his handbook was March 24 - “**No skool Easter Break**” and don’t forget graph paper.
Three rubbermate containers holding cherished collections of schoolwork since kindergarten.
Grade Three: A question given was, If you found a lucky leprechaun who granted you three wishes, what would you wish for? Matthew wrote: to be healthy all my life, play in the NHL, get a new air hockey table.
Grade Four: The Book of Matthew Churchill (dated October 1999)…..six years ago today. My Feelings: I get mad when I cannot go out to play. Spooky movies makes me afraid. I felt really, really sad when my cat Casper died. Happy is my most favourite feeling. Things that make me happy are my family, playing with my friends and getting happy notes in school. My Mom: My mom has brown eyes. She works at xwave. We love to bake cookies. My moms take my friends and me to the park and to hockey games. We love going to see the Barbershop quartet. We love watching movies together. I love my mom. She is the best. My Dad: My dad’s eyes are green. He likes to play basketball with me. Dad and I went sleeping in my tent. The best part about it was that we had a flashlight. We slept there the whole night. We never went inside. My dad said I’m wigglely in my bed but not in the tent. I went to sleep on my belly and woke up on my belly. Dad said it was the fresh air. My dad works at Altius. My dad is the best. Describe Yourself: M - mostly kind to my friends A - active most time T - thankful for caring parents T - tries his best in school H – helps mom and dad E – eager to play hockey W – works at journal writing a lot
Grade Nine: In a black folder called Zero Tolerance. There are guitar notes to three songs. (1) Tears in Heaven; (2) I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing; (3) a song written by Zero Tolerance
My positive – look what I did today!
I thank God for blessing me with 15 wonderful years I had with Matthew and bringing Matthew into my life. God you couldn’t have asked for or wanted a better Angel.
Saturday, October 22, 2005: It’s 4:30am and I can’t sleep. I’m thinking about Matthew and what he may be doing in Heaven this morning. What I vision is him having breakfast with his Nanny Helen, Nanny in the woods and Superpop. I can hear him laughing as he is with them. After breakfast he is helping others by talking and listening to them - you see he has a very important job in Heaven which is why he was chosen by God. Then he is off with his new friends playing golf, gone swimming or having a game of hockey and playing guitar. I know its MacDonald for lunch with friends - that’ll be a Big Mac, fries, coke and BBQ sauce to dip the fries in. Then for some reason, I don’t know why, I can see Matthew going into art galleries looking at beautiful pieces of artwork. I can also envision him drawing. Matthew was not an artist but this is something I see him doing.
My mind and body feels a little stronger this morning. That’s the feeling at this moment but it can change in a second without notice. I’ve never had emotions and feelings that have been out of control. I have absolutely no control over my emotions anymore. Up to seven months ago I was an in-control person over my feelings. I would know how to react and know the feeling within a situation. I cried when watching a sad movie, I laughed watching a funny one, I would smile with a compliment and be upset by negative expression. Today, and for the last seven months, it doesn’t work that way anymore for me. My feelings and emotions are everywhere and I even have new feelings that I haven’t experienced before. My mind is like a yo-yo – however more down on the ground than up.
As Rod and myself drove home yesterday I said to Rod that the sky looks so different now. To me the sky is warmer and has a “homey” feel. It’s brighter even on a cloudy day as though it’s smiling. The clouds move differently as if they’re watching. The way the light of the sun shines through is inviting. The colors are more vibrant - the pinks are pinker the blue is bluer. The stars dazzle as if they were dancing. The sky seems bigger as I look up. Do I notice the sky differently because I know Matthew is just beyond the sky?
My positive – last week I did not want anything to do with Halloween. It was going to be ignored and forgotten about. But I remembered I am a mom and an aunt who took joy in doing up special Halloween bags filled with goodies and special treats. On Tuesday, Rod and myself went to Wal-Mart and picked up special goodies for our three nephews and cards with a little something to mail to our nieces and nephew who live away. When I dropped off the bag of goodies to my nephews and see their delighted faces, it made my day. I thought, Why should my nephews and nieces not enjoy the things I use to do? It’s hard for them to understand that Aunt Desma is hurting too much to forget. I know Matthew would be saying, “Mom, where are the goodie bags?” Every Halloween, Matthew and myself would lay all the goodies on my bed and we would fill each treat bag. Matthew would love to see those bags filled to overflowing – Matthew loved to give.
Thursday, October 20, 2005: It’s been a week since I have written. I just do not have the energy to write. My missing Matthew is so deep. I feel like crawling instead of walking. My endless words are, “Oh Matthew” and “Oh my”. Matthew’s face is so clear and so near - if only I could reach through and take him back. I’ve cried so much my ribs are sore and my eyes are tender.
The chatter on the radio and of friends are now of Christmas approaching. I’m having such a hard time blocking that word from my confused mind. This was a special occasion, which meant so much to us that is now meaningless and empty. I’d like to be a bear and hibernate for the winter. Actually I’d like to hibernate year round.
I’m constantly thinking and wondering. As I look up at the stars I wonder if he can see me. I think to myself “What have I done to deserve this pain and heartache?”. A thought I had just was how proud Matthew was that he was taller than me.
I was in the supermarket today and had to make a quick exit. I saw a little boy about 7 asking his dad to take him to the washroom. The dad replied “My God [little boy’s name], why do you always do this to me - god damn it - come on and hurry up - if you don’t hurry up you’ll have to wait”. The anger in the dad’s eyes as he looked at his little boy made me want to burst. I felt like going over and shaking the dad – but I didn’t I just left the store.
My positive for today - I’m a mom of an amazing angel.
Friday, October 14, 2005: Over the last couple of days, there are no words of consoling that comfort me. There is nothing I do that takes my mind away from missing Matthew. The heaviness that fills my chest flows throughout my body.
My mind feels alone eventhough there is companionship all around me. It’s though I’m abandoned on a deserted island and the next island is miles away.
Every night before I go to bed. I go to Matt’s bedroom and turn on his nightlight - he didn’t like the dark. The feeling that comes over me as I look at his empty bed is indescribable. Sometimes I even say to myself, he is just over to a friend’s house, he’ll be home later. I try to deceive my brain but my heart takes over the battle.
We had support group last evening. My new friends provide me with comfort. It’s a place I feel secure.
My positive for today is that I have started a list of places that I would like to volunteer. I have even made a few phone calls. As I looked over my list a contented smile came upon face - the places are those that Matthew had spoke about and had shown interested in. Oh wait...I have a 1/2 positive - I “looked” at my treadmill yesterday. I know the button on my jeans will thank me once I start using it again.
Monday Evening, October 10, 2005: Below are some pictures that I took this evening around the house. Beautiful flowers are still in bloom in Matt's Garden. The picture of the meadow is located on back of our house and is still green eventhough fall has arrived. This is the view I have while writing - looking out over the meadow and over Matt's Garden. The pond is located just south of our house and the picture was taken from the window. The picture looks both peaceful and serene as the sun begins to set. (See Matt's Garden)
Monday Morning, October 10, 2005: While I look out the window as I write, nothing on the outside world has changed - the fog still rolls in, the birds fly by, the trees dance with the wind as the rain weeps. How different the world is on the other side of a pane of glass. On the opposite side of my window, our inside world has changed forever – nothing is the same.
On Friday we visited the school to see Matthew's scholarship plaque. The plaque is beautiful. As I looked at it I thought this couldn’t be real. How can I say that the plaque is beautiful when I don’t even what it to be real?
On Saturday Rod and myself went to Wal-Mart and Michaels Craft store. I brought a pumpkin and fall leaves to place on Matt’s resting place. As we passed Sportchek my legs become numb and I cry and I said to Rod “I hope there is a Sportchek in Heaven for Matthew”. I have cried most of all day today. When bringing down the laundry I would love to be washing Matthew’s clothes. I want to think that he is still in bed sleeping – just knowing that he is there. I want to make lunch for three not two. I want him to come down stairs and ask me to pick up a friend to come over. I want to hear his laugh while playing hand hockey in the hallway. I want to rub his feet when their tired. I want to sing out “turn down the guitar amp”. I just want him here with me. Today - I’ll listen to the quiet so I can hear his voice, close my eyes I can see his face, breath in so I can smell him, and touch his blanket I can feel him.
On Sunday we had Matthew’s favourite meal, Nanny Bernice’s turkey dinner. To me - the most important person was missing. Today we also saw and spoke with Jason twice. I found comfort in speaking with Matthew’s friends knowing how important he was in their lives. But I also hurt when I see them because Matthew should be with them.
This morning I slept till 10:00. I can hear Rod outside mowing the grass. I know how difficult mowing the grass for Rod is. Matthew always mowing the grass and I know Rod can see Matthew zipping up and down the garden.
It’s Thanksgiving Day and what do I have to be thankful for – nothing! As I try to clear my head of my negative. I’ am thankful for the fifteen and half precious and wonderful years with Matthew. He brought to my life so much happiness, contentment, peace, pleasure, memories and love.
My grief is my own and I don’t want anyone to take it away. I need my time to grieve. No one knows the feelings that I have inside. I can write about how I feel but it’s impossible to write the hurt.
Thursday, October 6, 2005: My outing today with my new friends was relaxing and I enjoyed their company and conversation. In Matthew’s absence, he continues to help others as new friendships develop through my grief. My new friends’ faith reassures my own.
My new purpose is becoming a little clearer everyday. I know that my next step in life is to help others. I’m not sure what that may be, but I have so much love within me to share. I know that this is something that Matthew would want me to do and it’s something that I need to do.
As the summer signals it’s farewell and the leaves descend from the trees, my nights become longer as the days become shorter. My missing Matthew never fades. To put a truly, happy smile on my face, I need to see his precious face in front of mine.
Wednesday, October 5, 2005: Today is my sister-in-law Lynette’s birthday - another birthday occasion without Matthew. Happy 30th birthday Lynette or Aunt Nin as Matthew called her.
I’m going on my first outing tomorrow without Rod or my family but with my new friends in grief (a mom who lost her daughter in November 2004 and a mom who lost her son in December 2004). We are going to visit another mom who lost her daughter two years ago. She lives about 1 ½ hour away. They are beautiful people, I feel so comfortable in their presence.
In Matt’s garden today there were fifteen butterflies on Matt’s butterfly bush. I must have looked so funny in the garden chasing butterflies around trying to count them. I’m still looking for the name of the butterflies. They were orange, brown, yellow and outlined with black in color. They have such a graceful and peaceful presence. They bring to the garden an elegant and picturesque charm. I am hoping to upload the pictures tomorrow.
Monday, October 3, 2005: This week has been all down and out. From seeing the front page of the Sobey’s flyer with Asparagus on sale (Matt’s favourite veggie) to the department stores filled with Halloween stuff. The talk of Christmas approaching makes me want to run away. Trying not to cry as I make our dentist appointment – telling the receptionist just two appointments not three. Watching the TV show “Lost”, I think about how Matthew and myself enjoyed watching it. We’d make sure popcorn and blankets were ready for 9:30. Who knew that this year, I would be the one lost?
I dropped Rod off at the rink on Sunday another painful event for me. As I watched all the kids going in and out, I wanted to scream, “This is not fair…..why Matthew, why me”?
I’m glad that Rod is back coaching hockey because he has so much to offer. He is great with the kids and the kids love to see him there. Most importantly Matthew would want him to be there.
As I
finish writing, Matthew’s beautiful smile comes into my
mind. I close my eyes and want to stay this way. His smile
makes me cry because I miss him. His smile makes me smile
because I treasure him. His smile warms my heart because of
our wonderful memories. As my eyes open and look out the
window, I see the stars sparkling and the moon glowing –
thank you Matthew! I have three questions that no one on this earth can ever answer. Is Matthew okay? Is Matthew lonely? Is Matthew happy? I need proof – I want proof. It’s hard to comprehend that with the wisdom and the billions of people in the world – I can’t get an answer. However, I will trust and follow my heart and soul that Matthew is happy and has a very important job helping others and that he is with a loving family and friends above.
Yesterday, I opened an e-mail we received from Matthew’s website. In the e-mail a lady speaks of how her family had just recently returned from a Mediterranean cruise. During their visit to The Vatican City, she said a prayer for Matthew and us. They had also visited a church in the South of France. She describes the beauty of the church as being unparalleled and that she lit a candle for Matthew that now burns in front of a beautiful stained glass window. This lady, whom I do not know, lives in Scotland and her message has touched my heart. Another lady from a small community outside of St. John’s left a guestbook message telling how she visited Matthew’s resting place. These were just two of many emails and guestbook messages that have touched our lives with their caring words. It’s touching and comforting to know that people have taken time out of their lives to think about Matthew, to say a prayer, and for a moment we are in their thoughts. Thank you so very much.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005: A half-year has gone by and my missing Matthew is so overwhelming. I almost have to question why God made love so strong.
Over the last six months I didn’t think it was humanly possible to experience this much pain and heartbreak and survive. But I’m moving along. I’m following my grief as it moves along the path.
My last 185 days have been lonely without Matthew. The silence in our house is deafening and the loneliness echoes throughout.
I try to imagine what the next six months will bring me, but I can’t - I can’t even imagine what tomorrow will bring me. I'll take one day at a time - that’s all I can handle.
Sunday, September 25, 2005 Rod has asked me to write something positive today. My reply, “Who me… I don’t think so…my writing will only be one line!” As I sit here for several minutes, I’m trying to think with a positive mind but I want so much to write about my missing Matthew.
I slept for four hours straight last night. Sleep is one of my many physical struggles. My head is not as tight and hazy today.
Last evening as I watched a TV programme, there was a slight movement in my upper body and a joyful sound escaped my mouth. This laugh felt good although hurt at the same time. I thought how could you laugh – you hurt too much. Ooops, sorry Rod…..positive writing today!
My conversation endurance is recuperating. Most of my telephone conversations to family and friends were merely just minutes. Most of the time I wasn’t paying attention and did not want to hear what they were saying. I did not have the mental energy to take it in. This last few weeks my conversations are lasting a little longer. I have found interest and importance again in what my family are doing.
My favourite type of day - rain, fog and overcast – it matches my mood so well. However last week on a warm sunny day, it seemed to lift my spirits for a moment. The warmth was inviting and I took pleasure in its short stay. I know there is beauty all around me, but my new world begs to cloud it over.
Sleeping for four hours, to laugh, have a telephone conversation, and to notice the sun may seem so small, but they are such big steps for me.
Slowly, hesitantly and with uncertainty within myself I am finding the new me. I so much loved the old me - in my old world - where Matthew was.
Grief is loves unwillingness to let go. This verse we first heard during couselling from Dr. Singleton
Friday, September 23, 2005 My daily thoughts are of missing Matthew. That is my main emotion - missing. I have countless other emotions but the one that is with me day and night and all the time is the missing. I can’t express or describe the feeling of my missing. Within all my emotions I also have these other things happening.
“How is work”? I find that work is also a part of my ongoing therapy. Never thought I’d say that! Work is another outlet away from my crying chair - my crying bed - my crying tasks I try to do at home. The hardest is the concentration level – which at times is zero. Many times I have to stop what I’m doing and just sit back. I feel absent minded and brainless. Tasks that came so natural to me, are nowadays a challenge. I feel overtired and exhausted due to my hardest job – my grief. My attempts to stay a full day have failed. I have worked my way from two hours to four and now to five. However there are days when barely one hour is achievable and there are a few days that I need my crying chair and crying bed. But I know I’m trying my hardest.
“You’ve gained weight”? Yes I have gained weight in the last three months, the first two months I didn’t eat. Now I find comfort sitting on my bed from 8:00pm on with my bag of chips and my box of cookies watching CNN (misery loves company). In my thoughts…who cares its only weight, it’s only my health…I’d rather not be here anyways…I’m needed where Matthew is. That’s when my purpose of my “new life” comes in – the one I’m still searching for. Do I just sit on my bed and eat, become unhealthy or do I do something about it. Should I be trying to make a difference in someone else’s life? In my heart, Matthew is saying, “Mom come on, get up, I know you can make a difference, I’m here with you, I’ll guide you, you have work to do… I’ll see you when the time is right”.
“Where do you get your strength”, I have had many comments on my strength and will. This would upset me terribly. I would think how could anyone possibly see strength in me. My world is collapsed, turned upsidedown, crumpled and ended. My insides are nothing but emptiness and missing. My heart is in torture. My mind is in anguish. Who can see strength from that? Today I thank you for these comments. During this time I have two choices. One - give up or second - walk with my grief. I choose the harder of the two. I guess that it where my strength is shown. Some parents have said, “I don’t know how you’re doing it or I wouldn’t be able to do it”. No, you don’t know, because you don’t want to know and it’s a place you wouldn’t want to go for a second. Your mind will not allow you to. Today by choosing the tougher road I do have strength! Thank you for seeing this in me when I couldn’t. I truly believe that Matthew also makes my strength possible – Matthew would not want me to crumble.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005 I have many different thoughts flowing around in this bewildered head of mine today.
I’m not willing or wanting to let go and I’ll never get over it. Someone asked how I was doing the other day and I gave my usual reply, “I’m existing, thank-you for asking”, the comment I got back was “You have to get another saying...I’m not asking you how you are doing anymore!” I’m thinking to myself, “OK… but if you do want to ask again…sorry, you’ll get the same reply!” Needless to say I was astounded, taken back and hurt! I won’t lie and say, “Oh, I’m doing great or just peachy.” – because I’m not. I know my loss makes others uncomfortable. Some are unsure of what to say and I’ve been told they don’t want to upset me. Please know that saying hi is good for me and please don’t worry about upsetting me – I’m already upset. I need to speak about Matthew. I want to know that you are thinking about us. I’m sure after you speak to me – free tears included – hopefully you’ll feel better about asking and I’ll feel better knowing you care.
I can’t believe I’ll never be called mom again – look mom, come here mom, watch this mom, help mom, can you wash this mom, what’s for supper mom, do you have any money mom, and I love you mom. Oh how I would love to hear that little word again. For three little letters… it’s the biggest and most meaningful word in the world. I’ve lost my most precious and important job.
My sleep is still not on track. While I’m in bed I want so much for Matthew to be asleep in his room. I close my eyes and when they open I want Matthew to be there. I’ll go into his room numerous times in the night to see if he’s in his bed. I think to myself the next time I go out…he’ll be there. I just want to see him again, to touch him again, and to hold him again.
Nothing has ever tested my faith more than Matthew’s passing. And it’s my faith that has helped me through. How can the same entity bring two different meanings to life?
Thank you Matthew for tugging me along again today. It’s your strength that got me on my feet again this morning, to go to work, to water the garden, and to read a book and to do some writing.
To end with a positive, I smiled a happy smile again today because of the song of a little bird that sat on the fence next to Matthew’s resting place. My smiles are becoming more frequent and staying a little longer!
As you have read, another day on the roller coaster and feeling the ebb and flow of the waves.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005 Yesterday was another day in battle with myself in anguish and depression both physically and emotionally. As I’ve wrote before about the roller coaster and the waves - today the ride was shut down, I was stuck on bottom and I was out at sea with no oars. These feelings are like an electric shock and frightening. Frightening because they hit so fast, so hard and you don’t know when it’s going to ease just a little or if I'll be stuck like this and have that nervous breakdown. I can also describe it as running into a brick wall - running as fast as you can.
While I was sleeping Sunday night I felt someone rub my foot with their soft hands and lay next to me. As I got up to look, Rod was sound asleep and Scooter was asleep on Matthew’s bed. I truly believe this was Matthew. I was so excited my heart raced and I stayed awake hoping for him to come back.
I took some pictures of the Matthew's Garden "butterfly bush" last evening. Our friends, the Fennemore’s, had given it to us to plant in the garden. When Peggy handed us the plant she said, “I had to get a butterfly bush because Matthew would always say he got the butterflies in his belly when he got excited”. The pink flowers that have bloomed are breathtaking. The pictures give no justice to the plant. Matthew must especially love the plant because it has taken over the garden. (See Matt's Garden). |
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Monday, September 19, 2005 I’ve cried for 176 days!
The inside part of me is still shattered and unaware of any healing. I’m still struggling. My heart will never be mended - I’m unrepairable. I can describe my heart and mind as empty but heavy, lonely with missing, hurting in the company of pain, sadness in the midst of my despair, and my hopelessness besides my longing. That is the inside me.
The outside part of me is slowly healing. This I can see and feel. I’m able to handle the real world a little these days. For the last five months anywhere I would go I would hang my head so no one could see my grief - I did not want anyone to see or feel my pain. I found that my step is a little faster and my energy lasting a little longer. I’m able to do laundry now and clean the house. Up to four months ago these tasks were intolerable. That is the outside me.
Yesterday we went to the Price Club. While we were there myself and Rod saw and spoke with Todd O’Neill. Todd works at Carnell’s Funeral Home. He took care of our needs during Matthew’s stay there. Todd had met me at the worst stage of my life. At this time, the world to me did not exist. I depended on Todd’s strength, compassion, and just being there. He carried our family through the worst days of our lives. Todd made me feel a little safer in a world that I knew destroyed me. I know Rod and both our families were by my side all the way but they too were lost in heartache and pain. I’m forever grateful for his gentleness, presence and kindness. It’s impossible to thank Todd enough to truly let him know how much he meant to me during this time.
As a grieving parent for five and a half months, I have seen a rainbow that captured my heart with it’s brilliant colors, a sunset that subdued the pain but for a second, a small bird with a yellow belly that lifted my spirits, a garden full of flowers that bursts with growth, my families warmth with their gentle touch, a friend’s smile that said you’ll be okay, and a sky shining down it’s bright rays telling me this is where Matthew now lives.
Saturday, September 17, 2005 Today, I’m able to look at Matthew’s pictures a little easier without the dreadful force that used to bring me to my knees with grief. After Matthew passed away, I was only able to look at his baby pictures and only up to the last few months before he passed away. The most recently taken pictures were the ones I had difficulty with. I wasn’t able to make eye contact with his eyes in these pictures. The absolute hopelessness that would take over my body...I can’t even put into words, express or describe the numbness. I believe it was part of my denial and disbelief.
I wonder why there is days that I feel a little bit of strength both physically and emotionally and then the next day I feel that I have no physical or emotion strength. It’s feels like an emptiness from head to toe. I think…"was that me yesterday"…"why do I feel like a totally different person today than I did yesterday"? They say this is a part of grief – it’s compared to waves and a roller coaster ride – in and outs with up and downs. Today my grief is mainly out to sea and at the bottom of the ride. When my time has come I’ll see the shore and would have finished the ride.
Friday, September 16, 2005 We had support group on Tuesday evening. I appreciate how important and meaningful my support group is to me. I gain so much strength from sitting in that room every two weeks. I find it difficult to leave my new friends when its time to go. It’s a place that I seek and want, and to hear what my new friends went through the last two weeks. They provide me with emotional and moral support. We all grieve in different ways but the heartache is the same. I feel warm inside when I see Arlene, Everett, Terry, Bunny, Gerry, Diana, Mary, and Rosemary. We’ve met many more parents along the way who drop into our group when they are able and I find strength from them also. From our time together my mind is lightened with a positive energy. To express my feelings and listen to others has been a significant part of my healing.
As we drive around the city, I notice all the election signs and another memory of Matthew appears. When Matthew was around age ten I would take him with me when I would vote. We would line up and then he would watch as I marked my “X” and drop my card in the box. Not that I’m an overly political person, but I wanted Matthew to understand a little of what was happening.
I’m still in search of my new purpose. My existence was to make sure that Matthew was safe, taken care of when sick and he was happy. My mind’s main focus was Matthew – if Matthew was sick – I was sick, if Matthew worried about a test – I worried about the test. All this is no longer and I search for a purpose of my being. I used to worry about myself but this was for Matthew’s well being and not for myself. I feared what if I become ill – who would take better care of him than me. Today I don’t care if I get that illness. I used to fear death…on March 28 that fear completely left me. I’ve told friends that when I die; don’t cry because I’m where I want to be.
I’m so glad I was involved in Matthew’s life as close as I was. I do not have one regret with how we spent our time. I don’t know why but I always lived as - what if tomorrow doesn’t come. I kissed Matt every night and said I love you every night. When I was too tired in the evening to move and wanted to relax, but Matthew wanted to have a game of crazy eights, his feet rubbed, needed a certain pair of jeans cleaned, a school concert to go to - I was there. I may have complained a little, but my answer was always yes, I have time. I can’t imagine how I would feel today if I never took the time or ignored these simple requests. Today all these small requests are my reflections of beautiful times. Of course within the last three years he wanted, and needed, his own space and to do his own thing, which I respected most of the time. I was there when I was needed, when I was wanted and when I was required to love, nurture and protect.
At Matt’s resting place this evening, we saw all of our animals that usually meet us there - our crows, our butterfly and our dragonfly. But tonight we had a new friend arrive it was a little bird with a bright yellow belly. He sat on the fence in front of me as I said my goodnight to Matt.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005: Four years ago on September 11, 2001, Matthew’s great grandfather – Gordon Miller Sr. passed away. He passed away just hours before the US 9/11 tragedies in New York. At that time Matthew said, “Super Pop has gone to Heaven to take care and help the people who died”.
Saturday afternoon was another extremely difficult one. As I was looking for something in the linen closet, I came across our Christmas stockings - a dagger through my heart would not have hurt so much. After minutes of just sitting on the floor in utter despair, I knew that I had to go to a different place both physically and mentally for my own well being. Later in the evening, Rod was going to Wal-Mart to buy Harley dog food so I decided to go. While at Wal-Mart, I noticed a mom shopping with her teenage son who was about Matt’s age. They were buying binders for school – I wanted to be that mom buying binders. Then two teenage boys walked passed us, they looked so happy and wearing smiles on their faces – I wanted that to be Matt. As I sauntered away, I’m thinking to myself why is my life so heavy with grief. At 37 - I’d lost the most precious person who I loved with all my heart and soul - my son. At age 16 - I’d lost the person I depended on and loved with all my heart – my mom. Maybe I’ll find the answer when it’s my time. I know that I have two of the most wonderful angels watching over me.
There are chores that I’m still not prepared to do and maybe never will. To move Matt’s toothbrush from the toothbrush holder, to remove items from his room, to change our telephone message manager - which still has the message with Matthew’s name there and suppertime on March 28 Matthew spilled orange juice on the carpet – that orange juice stain still sits there because I don’t want to remove it. I had told Matt I’d clean it up later on. All the small and simple things in life mean so much.
That’s my life without Matt up to now…
As I stood up finished writing and ready to turn off the computer at 7:10 am, I looked out the window and in front of me are two of the most colourful rainbows I have ever seen. The colors displayed are so vibrant. There are two rainbows, two at the same time and they overlap each other. Was one rainbow from Matt and the other from Mom? A sad smile leaves my face as I watch them fade away.
Saturday, September 10, 2005: It’s 4:30am on Saturday morning. Still can’t sleep. I really haven’t sleep through the night since March 28. Doctors have mentioned that I should take something for two weeks to get me back on track - but I don’t want to. I haven’t taken anything yet and do not want to take anything. For now I’ll stay in survivor mode.
This week hasn’t helped my grief. Actually it weighs down my grief. In different ways certain people are telling me not to express certain emotions - this doesn’t help – this only suppresses my grief. They have to realize that so many emotions are involved with grief. I can’t just simply place an emotion to the side and say I’ll deal with that one later. It happens wheatear you like it or not. I would love to give these people a guide on understanding grief (please click to read article), so that they become educated or even aware. There are so many emotions - missing, loneliness, anger, withdrawal, low energy, crying, sighing, emptiness, restlessness, lack of sleep, headaches, stomach pain, heartbeat irregularity and so many more. There are days that all of these happen to me.
I’m not at the resolution phase of grief yet and my memories still hurt so much. When I remember, I just cry and cry and the actual pain inside is so hurtful. The wanting Matthew back is so intense. My disbelief or denial is in and out. There are times in my day that I say this can’t be true - this didn’t happened.
I’m starting to read again. I’ve moved up the line from magazines to books. I’ve gone from reading if Brittany Spears is having a boy or girl and what’s happening in Brad Pitt’s life (there’s only so much you can read about Brittany and Brad’s life) to National Geographic (which I love), to books on grief. I’ve read “The Purpose Driven - Life”, “The Worst Loss: How Families Heal from the Death of a Child”, and “90 Minutes in Heaven”. I have ordered two others books from Chapters and should be here soon. It takes me longer to read a book than before. There are times I have to go back a few pages and re-read because I have forgotten what I had just read… my concentration level is not what it used to be.
I stayed in the garden for about half and hour the other day. I was completely exhausted after, but I can remember in April and May not even being able to walk to the garden. When I write these things I can see that there is a physical difference in myself but my inside feelings haven’t changed - not that I can feel. My spirituality and faith has grown and this is comforting.
What I do see is that I’m a survivor, I’ve made it this far – I’ll make it. The worst has happened. I can remember thinking and even telling friends in this last sixteen years – “My God what would I do if anything even happened to Matthew” in that same breath, I would said “I’d just die”. Matt was my world, my soul, my being. Thank you Matthew for giving me the strength to carry on and carrying me through. My faith also reassures me and I know that I’ll see Matt again. He’s just waiting for me on the other side, where we’ll never part again. Matt will have my wings ready for me. I know that I’m not going to Hell because that’s where I have been for the last five and half months.
Keeping Matthew’s memory alive is so very important to me. This is my therapy. All the activities that myself and Rod have done to keep Matthew’s name and memory alive also keeps me standing – Matt’s website, Matt’s Garden, The Matthew R. Churchill Memorial Fund, tending to Matt’s resting place, and our pink & purple Loved Forever awareness wrist bands. I do all these things because I’m a proud mom, a mom who loved her son with all her heart, soul and being, a mom who does not want anyone to forget her son and a mom who wants to tell the world about an amazing young man who warmed the hearts of his mom and dad and so many more.
That’s my life without Matt up to now… I’ll see what tomorrow brings.
Saturday, September 03, 2005: Today is my brother Dann and sister Daina birthdays - another birthday occasion without Matthew. But for these days, there are no celebrations.
I realize that nothing and no one can bring Matthew back to me. There are pieces of me everywhere. Most of the pieces I can’t find. Like a puzzle with missing pieces, I will never be complete.
This is a journey I didn’t want to take; one I would have given anything not to travel. The journey is long, dark, foggy, and with many hills. I have no compass and I have been given no map to find my way. I do have many guides along the way. Without my guides I would be lost forever. My guides are Rod, our families, friends, my support group, Dr. Khalili, Dr. Inkpen, and Matthew’s friends.
The order in which life happens was destroyed on March 28 for us. Matthew was supposed to bury me. This is how it was suppose to work, this is the order in which it was supposed to happen, I was supposed to go first. This is the order in which I wanted and needed it to happen.
How can anyone be in so much pain and heartache and still exist? How is it that I’m able to talk, walk and stand and be in so much pain inside? It’s because I have no other choice. I guess I do have another choice but this is something Matthew would never want. In the beginning it was something I did think about but I know Matthew would want me to live through my grief and not take the short cut.
Friday, September 02, 2005 My anger is taking over today. I’m sure it’s because the court date is coming up. I try not to let my anger take control or consume me because the only person it’s hurting is me – both physically and mentally. My heart races so fast. When Matthew left our home on March 28 with his best friend, neither Matthew nor ourselves expected that he would be killed that terrible evening. As parents, this was the ultimate nightmare, but nightmares you wake up from.
Matthew was robbed and cheated out of all of life’s experiences. Matthew loved life so much. Matthew will never experience his school graduation, to attend secondary schooling, to meet the love of his life, to have children, to work, to own a home, to own or drive a car. He will never have the chance of life’s other experiences that one has along the way.
I’m so angry today that the tears won’t stop flowing and my heart won’t stop racing.
Monday, August 29, 2005: It was five months yesterday without you. Some days it feels like a lifetime ago and other days it feels like yesterday. Yesterday, I found it too difficult to write. In my mind I’m trying to figure out when this overwhelming feeling will get easier but I see no relief in site.
In my mind I try to tell myself that you are now in a safe place where there is no hurt or sickness and happiness is always. From what I have read, and what I want to believe, is that when you reach Heaven you don’t want to come back, because Heaven is far more beautiful than earth and different colors exist – colors that do not exist here on earth.
As I have said to many people over this last while, I’m 37 and can’t wait for my time to come. I can’t wait to see you again.
I’m constantly looking for signs from you that say you are okay – I wonder is it the butterfly that follows me, the bird on the deck that doesn’t move when I come close, Scooter the cat who shows so much of her affection that was never there before, is it the soft warm wind that blows across my face, the tender mist in the air, the dragonfly that sits on your monument during the time I’m at your resting place or the enormous growth in my garden that displays colors so brilliantly.
I try so hard to have a more positive outlook on life instead of a negative one. I know that the negative is bringing me down. In having a positive outlook, when it’s my turn to go, I want to make sure that I sit on the same cloud as you - the highest.
Yesterday when we went to place more flowers on your resting place, Ben and Vera Lynn were down visiting you. This fills my heart with warmth. When we got home Greg, Adam, Aaron, Kyle, Justin (your band Zero Tolerance) and Carter were there to visit us. I was having a really rough day and couldn’t stay long to chat. Rod really enjoyed the time spent with the guys chatting. After they left Rod said “what a great bunch of kids”.
Thursday, August 25, 2005: My writing sometimes helps relieve my mind’s confused state. I guess it’s because so many different emotions are happening all at once. Writing makes it become a little clearer of what’s happening inside. I believe if you keep in your thoughts, they will only fester and keep growing.
I’m starting to find that everyone is going on with their lives and I’m still at March 28. I feel that everyone should stop and stay where I am – I want the world to stop with me.
My days are endless hours that stretch into infinity filled with my heartache. This grief is exhausting work. I try to function the best way I can, but my collapsed world is still on top of me and I’m trying to find my way out.
It helps me that we have two different types of counseling sessions that we attend. One week we attend group counseling at the HSC with other parents who have lost a child. These parents have an understanding of our pain. Sometimes I feel that I’m the only person in the world grieving and hurting so deeply. But when we talk and share our feelings I know that we’re not alone and this brings me comfort. The opposite week, Rod and myself go to counseling with Dr. Khalili. In our private counseling, through guidance by Dr. Khalili I’m reassured that I’m doing okay and what I’m feeling is normal. Dr. Khalili is wonderful and has helped myself and Rod thought so much. We talk about Matthew, which I love to do, want to do and need to do.
Our families are there for us anytime we need them. I’m thankful that they understand that sometimes I just can’t speak and don’t want to talk, but at other times I need to talk-cry-talk. They listen and comfort.
My friends at work have been another source of great comfort. If they were not like family – I’m not sure I would have been able to go back to work. Right now I only have enough energy to work for a few hours in the morning but I hope that with time, and my friends continued support of my needs, I’ll be back again.
Matthew’s friends have also helped me by their visits, e-mails, and messages in the guestbook. Knowing how important Matthew was in their lives is a warm feeling.
Rod, family, friends and counseling - all these people now have become my lifeline. It’s a dependence I never thought that I would need. Without these people in my life I’m not sure where I would be today.
All the activities that myself and Rod have done to keep Matthew’s name and memory alive also keeps me standing – Matt’s website, Matt’s Garden, The Matthew R. Churchill Memorial Fund, tending to Matt’s resting place, our pink & purple Loved Forever awareness wrist bands and the bumper stickers. I do all these things because I’m a proud mom, a mom who loved her son with all her heart, soul and being, a mom who does not want anyone to forget her son and a mom who wants to tell the world about an amazing young man who warmed the hearts of his mom and dad and so many more.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005: Matt - Mom’s baby, sweetie pie, buddy boo, little fart – you have heard all these names many times over the years. But I can hear you now ….mom don’t say that too loud.
I know all my writings are negative and I’m hoping maybe in time they will become positive. It’s just that this is too hard. I miss you every minute of my day.
I see you so vividly walking in the door, yelling out “honey I’m home” or with a whistle. I see you sitting at the computer typing away on MSN to your friends, playing your guitar, laying on my bed asking to have your feet massaged or your back scratched, seeing you with your head in the fridge, or your humming from the shower. I would give anything to see you again. I would have given my life for yours. I still find it impossible to believe that you are no longer with us. Only in my memories and dreams I see and hear you.
My anger jolts in and out. I try not to let it consume me because if it does it will destroy me both mentally and physically. My anger appears when I think about not having you with us and you being robbed of all of life’s experiences.
It was Poppy Brett’s 65th birthday on Monday. Its so hard to celebrate without you - there was no singing of Happy Birthday, just a cake, no candles and no gifts to be excited about. Poppy Brett wanted it this way and I’m glad because it’s so difficult to smile.
As always Mom loves you and don’t ever forget.
Saturday, August 20, 2005 Oh Matthew, my days are so empty without you. I get up in the morning and whatever the day brings – happens. Matt, I miss you so much - only I know how strong that feeling is within me, its crushes me inside. It’s such an excruciating hurt of my heart and mind.
I wonder if you can see me? Do you miss me, like I miss you?
My spirituality brings me comfort in knowing that earth is just a temporary place before Heaven and that God has a plan for all of us both on earth and in Heaven. I know that I will see your precious face and be able to kiss you again.
As I’m here typing, Scooter is constantly by my side. She keeps walking back and forth in front me, laying her head on my arm – can you believe it! A cat that never showed any affection to anyone - only you. She has changed so much - your dad and me can truly see her grief. Harley still sits by the door waiting for you to walk in the door. He cries when he sees me cry.
All your good friends were over to see us last week, Greg, Jason, Ben, Ryan, Steven, Carter, Morgan, Becca, Susan, Ashley, Vera Lynn, Stacey, Faye and Lindsay. They also came up to your room for a visit. It was a nice feeling that they wanted to visit your room. They are truly beautiful young adults. They miss you so and still struggle without you. They were all so lucky to have you as a wonderful friend. We know that you loved them so. You watched and cared for them here and we know that you still do. They have shared many memories, stories and adventures with us that we now treasure. My Fourth MonthIt’s four months today and my heartache is the same as it was four months ago – devastating and overwhelming. My missing you never leaves me. It would be so much easier to stay in bed and never get up again. I work so hard to get up and make it through the day. I know you would want it this way and I believe you give me the strength to carry on. I do notice that I’m now able to care for myself a little better. I have so many people helping me, your Dad, Poppy Brett, Aunt Nin, Aunt Daina, Uncle Dann, Nan and Pop and the rest of the family and friends, Dr. Khalili is there to let me know that I’m not going to lose it, and my new friends - the Greenings’ and Sturges’ - they understand my pain. I have also learnt so much in the last four months. I know that I’m a firm believer in my faith and spirituality, and that there will come a time when I will see you again. My Second MonthI still pray to God every night that I won’t wake in the morning. I know this sounds selfish but it’s the way I feel. People often remark that I'm strong or have strength. However, it's not strength people see, but rather they see me trying to get through each and every day. Just because I can walk, talk or stand, does not feel like strength to me. If they could feel what I feel, they may think differently. The emotion of missing Matthew is still so overpowering it can be thought of as paralyzing. My legs still tremble, quiver and shake as I go into his untouched bedroom. My hands want to touch everything in his room, knowing that the last hands to touch these things were Matthew’s. I smell his clothes and it smells good – his scent is still there and I fear that his smell is going to go away. His Joe Joe is still on his pillow, schoolbooks are still in his book bag and the clothes I smell every night still hangs in his closet. I will never be the same again!! Our home is now just a house, which is hollow and empty.
Third WeekMy third week without Matthew was increasingly more difficult, as the loss-trauma drains from my body and other emotions have invaded. An overpowering feeling of missing him is an “excruciating torture” of the heart and mind. Grief counsellors, family and friends remind us that time will heal our hearts, this we cling to – but deep down we really know different. Second WeekMy second week without Matthew was unbearable. As I dressed in the mornings it felt like I had just finished a marathon ten times over. Simple everyday tasks were painful challenges since no matter what we do, where we look or go, every one of these things jolts us back to memories of happier times with Matthew. Something as simple as looking at an unopened container of milk in the refrigerator brings tears to our eyes since it was Matthew’s favorite drink. We even had to leave Chapters bookshop because the first magazine we saw was his favorite guitar magazine that he always purchased. The sound of the school bus in the morning and seeing the bus in the afternoon and knowing that Matthew should be on that bus makes my empty heart sink further. The missing sound of laughter from the next room as he chatted on his MSN or watching a funny show, which once made me laugh, is no longer. Seeing that beautiful smile that would make my day better is now a memory. The kiss on the cheek that once sent wonderful tingles to the bottom of my toes every time is now a tremble through my body when I imagine it.
My First WeekMy first week was a blur of confusing emotions – loneliness, grief, anger, sadness, despair, numbness, shock, and denial – many times all occurring at once. The feeling of missing Matthew was overpowering. I felt like a walking zombie. I can only explain it as an out-of-body experience. Your grade 9 graduation was May 26, this is a time that you and I would have been so proud of, even though you spoke about being nervous about going to grade ten.
With the warm days here, Dad has cared for your trees, the trees around our home that we planted together when you were small. They are growing so tall. These trees I envisioned would be towering beautiful mature trees that you and your family would have treasured long after we were gone.
Lost Dreams This coming July would have been your 16th birthday, as you talked about so often Matt, this was your year to get your driving permit. But a fear I had as your Mom, because I feared about the “other drivers” that were on the road, the drunk drivers and the reckless drivers, a road that you would have been driving on, the same road as these people.
As Christmas is in six months I try not to let myself think about, but the thoughts enter. I try to prevent them - but they take over. Matt, remember the butterflies in the stomach we would get during this time, we would get so excited. We would always put up the Christmas tree in November anticipating the day. Your Wooden Nutcrackers that you had collected since you were small. I’m sure you have a hundred different ones – different colors, shapes and sizes, will now be cherished for the rest of my days. These treasured nutcrackers were to be passed down through to your family. You always wanted to keep all the boxes so that your nutcrackers were safe, so your children could keep them. This Christmas and all the ones to come will be unbearable without you.
In the next few years you were to graduate from school and then go on to University or a post-secondary school. During this time you would have been proud and I would have been so full of pride. You worked so hard in school from kindergarten to grade 9. We invested so much time into your education, studying every night with you during the school season - your dad studying Math and Science with you and I would help you with English and Social Studies. But we’d make sure you had breaks in between - you hardly ever complained. I only wanted the best for you.
The years during or after high school, I’m sure you would have met the girl of your dreams. I know she would have been wonderful - if you had chosen her. Your children - my grandchildren - we would have loved, treasured and cherished them with all our hearts and soul.
As your Mom I would have tried to move both Heaven and Earth just for you, because the love I had, and still have for you is so strong. Maybe some day I will understand why we never got to see what I had dreamt for your future.
I’m Thankful
I WonderI wonder about so many things. I wonder did Matthew suffer or have any pain as he lay on the road. I wonder did Matthew call out as he lay on the ground, looking for his Mom and Dad. When I arrived, the response team were performing CPR and several men and women held me back. I wasn’t able to go to him, I couldn’t hold him in my arms, to kiss him, touch him and just let him know I was there. I wonder day to day how I’m going to make it to the next day.
What I see within my Family and FriendsIn my husband, Rod, I can feel, see and know the pain that he feels as we go through this together. I thank God that Rod is with me every step I make. In my dad’s eyes I see distance and loneliness as he misses his grandson Matthew so much, but worries about his daughter, his child - me. My brother and sister hesitating to talk about their children – my niece and nephews, something we did every night, knowing the loneliness I feel without mine. Seeing my mother and father-in-law suffer, as their only grandchild living in Newfoundland is gone. Longing so hard that their other two grandchildren was here who live in Alberta. Watching my father-in-law’s health deteriorate before us as his diabetes goes out of control due to the effects of stress. My sister-in-law not being able to tell us she is 6 weeks pregnant when she finds out on March 28 - the day Matthew was taken from us. We try, but are unable to be happy for her during this time but I’m able to cry with her when she loses her baby in May after finding out that the baby had stopped growing the same day as Matthew’s funeral. In my friends I see a lost look in their eyes because they don’t know what to say or what to do for me.
Again I wonderI wonder will I able to laugh again because something is funny. Will I be able to smile again because I’m at peace? Will I be able to hum (I can’t sing) because I’m happy? Will I be able to dance around again because I’m content? Will I be glad to see a sunny day as today I long for rain? I wonder what life would be about if there were no memories to hold onto. What I do know is that some day I will see Matthew again as he will be waiting for me. But I was supposed to be the one waiting for him. I existed to protect, nurture and love Matthew. I still grieve and struggle every minute, hour and day without Matthew. I can’t even begin to describe the pain and heartache I have - it’s indescribable.
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My Mom is a survivor, or so I've heard it said.
But I hear her crying at night when all others are in bed.