The Telegram (St. John's)
News, Saturday, April 23, 2005, p. A1

People

A FAMILY'S GRIEF: Matthew Churchill was their life; now, his parents struggle with his loss

by Danette Dooley

As far as Desma Churchill is concerned, her fortune cookie said it all. She does her best to talk about it through her tears.

"We can't really eat right, right now. But we went to a Chinese restaurant the other day. And the fortune cookies came out. I opened mine and there was nothing in it. It was empty. I just looked at Rod and said, 'Can you believe it?' I said, 'That's exactly how I feel.' "

Desma and Rod's 15-year-old son Matthew was killed in a traffic fatality not far from his home on the Bauline Line in Portugal Cove-St. Philips on March 28. It's still much too early for either parent to think ahead to a life without their only child. A child that struggled coming into this world; a child that left it far too soon.

Matthew was born eight weeks premature, tipping the scales at four pounds, four ounces. His weight dropped even further over the next 24 hours.

"We figured he was going to be in hospital for two months, but he was only in for three weeks. He was our little fighter," his mother says, seated next to her husband on their loveseat.

The Churchills' world was complete when Matthew was born. They've never regretted not having a second child.

"Our world revolved around Matthew," Desma says.

"He struggled all through school. He had written output disorder, and they figured that was due to being born premature. He worked for every mark he got," she says.

Because of the help he received from his parents and at school, Matthew did well in the mainstream classroom.

"Every night we'd be at the books with him. Last going off, Rod would do the math and science with him and I'd do the English and social studies."

"And then we'd argue over who was going to do the French," Rod laughs.

The Churchills have nothing but kind words for the teachers at Beachy Cove elementary and Leary's Brook junior high, who, they say, gave their son the extra help he needed both in school and after class.

"They did everything they could for Matthew, within their capabilities," Rod says.

Like his father, Matthew had a passion for the puck. He wasn't a great player, but he loved the game just as much as his father loved coaching him. Sometimes, Rod admits, to the chagrin of his son.

"I used to end up embarrassing him from the bench. Although he never scored a lot of goals, anytime he did score, well, I used to make a big deal out of it. A father's pride, basically. And of course he'd skate back to the bench as cool as a cucumber and look at me and say, 'Dad, that's enough.' "

Desma reaches out to touch her husband's arm. Just as Rod was the hockey dad, she was Matthew's hockey mom. But, foremost, his protector.

"Matthew used to make fun of me because I always used to say to him, 'Stay away from the puck, watch out for the puck, skate away from it.' Because I didn't want him to get hurt. And all of his friends used to make fun of me. They'd say, 'Now, Matthew, don't forget, you got to skate over that way, away from the puck so you don't get hurt,' " Desma laughs through her tears.

Matthew's dreams for the future were limited only by his imagination. He spoke of carving a career on the ice, of becoming a police officer and - like many teenagers - of playing in a band.

"And when he was younger, he used to say he was going to be a ge-gol-o-gist like me. He couldn't pronounce geologist back then," his father says.

It has been said that no parent should ever have to bury a child. Choosing Matthew's headstone recently was one of the hardest things they've ever had to do.

"His headstone is in the middle and ours are on each side. We're having Matthew playing his guitar engraved on his. And Rod is going to have a little hockey stick on his. And then they asked me, 'What hobbies, do you have?' I said, 'Matthew was my hobby, he was everything I did,' " Desma cries.

The Churchills' dining room table has become the collecting area for over 1,000 cards and wishes of condolences that they've received from family, friends and strangers.

Rod walks over and picks up a couple of black and white skates, each about the size of a golf ball, made out of rubber. They were attached to Matthew's casket.

"Todd O'Neill of Carnell's helped us get through those first few days," he says placing the skates back into a tiny box.

The Churchills say they'll be forever grateful to all the people who have hovered around them since Matthew's death, including numerous members of their clergy as well as those who comforted them at the Janeway the night of the fatality.

"Some of the cards have different notes in them on just how Matthew touched people's lives," Desma says, standing next to Rod.

Among the cards are several from strangers from near and far who have also had to bury a child due to a traffic accident.

Desma picks up a sympathy card that has touched her to the core. She rubs her thumb over the beautifully handwritten words inside the card. This is what Matthew was all about, she says. The card reads:

"Our daughter is Matthew's age. She has always been an anxious child, especially around boys. In fact, she was scared of them, but not Matthew. She has never forgotten him as one of the nicest boys she knew. My heart used to ache for her because of the anxiety school used to bring to her; now my heart aches for you, in the loss of a child who was able to lighten some of a shy little girl's fears. You must be lovely people, and wonderful parents. Please accept our deepest condolences."

Among the cards on the dining room table is a brown, unsealed envelope. Rod picks it up but doesn't look inside.

"This is Matthew's wallet," he says.

"He had it on him that night. We know there'll probably be some movie stubs in there and probably five dollars. But we can't go there yet," he says, placing the envelope back on the table among the condolence cards and photos of their son.

Matthew was loved by his hockey buddies, his friends in the community, as well as his school chums at Leary's Brook junior high where a memorial has been erected in his name.

Desma and Rod realize that these children are now looking to them for strength in dealing with their own grief.

"We buried Matthew on a Friday and that Saturday myself and Desma came home. Up to that time we couldn't come back to the house. But we came home and I just went out and shovelled off a bit of snow. Apparently, one of kids saw me and he told all his friends that he'd seen me out shovelling snow and how great that was."

Since Matthew's death, Rod and Desma are in counselling. While Rod continues to keep busy as much as possible, Desma has found it helps a little to write about her feelings. It's a form of therapy, she says.

"We've been told that grief is love's unwillingness to let go," Rod says.

And that they understand.

While Desma writes, Rod works on projects that he hopes will keep his son's memory alive. He's designed an "In Memory" logo for next year's hockey team. He's also working to help set up an endowment fund in Matthew's memory.

But rather than looking toward a future without Matthew, the Churchills find comfort right now in remembering the past.

"His mom and him enjoyed making Christmas cakes in November. They would turn the Christmas music up and bake away," Rod says.

"And when we'd go out for nighttime drives in the summer just around the city, it always took Matthew an hour to get ready. He'd have to load the car up with pillows, blankets, and a snack," he adds.

While Matthew's youngest cousins are grieving in their own way, they cannot fathom the finality of death. His grandparents can.

"They're grieving for their grandson, but they're also worried to death about us," Desma says.

Matthew was passionate about his hockey and his other sports, yet he'd also come to make healthy and special relationships with girls his own age.

"There's one girl in particular, Morgan. She plays hockey as well. When Matthew first met her he didn't realize she played hockey. He discovered that afterward. We're not 100 per cent sure if they were dating or not but they were extremely close friends," Rod says.

The support Matthew's parents are receiving in their community and at work is helping them turn an hour into a day; a day into a week. Rod works with Altius Minerals Corp. Desma is employed by Aliant-Xwave-NLPDP Division.

"I'm back to work about an hour a day," Desma says.

"And I'm back to half to two-thirds a day," Rod says.

"Both our employers have been really supportive. They're there to help us, however they can," Desma adds.

After looking through the cards and photos, Desma and Rod make their way upstairs to Matthews bedroom.

His medals still hang from a shelf below his collectors cars. His television, stereo, snowboard and prized guitar are also where they should be. Most everything in the room is decorated in Matthews favourite colour, more purple than blue. His cellphone is on his night table next to his Maple Leafs lamp.

A black and white stuffed panda bear sits in the middle of Matthews double bed, propped up on his pillows.

Whenever Matthew went on excursions from home be it fishing with his father or a family vacation in Florida Joe-Joe went with him.

Desma picks up the tattered bear and points to a worn hole under its neck.

Matthew still slept with this. Not as a teddy bear. More as a pillow.

We were going to keep him in the casket with Matthew, but I said, I think we should keep him, Rod says.

And I'm glad now we did. I'm glad, Desma says clutching Joe-Joe to her breast.

As they try to move forward without Matthew, Desma says they do so because they know that's what their son would want.

The first day I went to the counsellor everybody was asking me How was it? I said, It was terrible. I was expecting him to make me better, to cure me. And I know that cant happen. But I think the only reason why I'm going on is if Matthew knew I crumbled that's the only thing that keeps me going. Matthew wouldn't want me to crumble.

A fund is being established in memory of Matthew. This fund will make annual disbursements to a Grade 9 student of Leary's Brook who portrays a hardworking and positive attitude.

A second annual disbursement will be in the form of a university entrance scholarship for any former player of the St. Johns Minor Hockey Association who has been accepted for studies at Memorial University of Newfoundland.

Donations can be made payable to: The Matthew R. Churchill Memorial Fund, c/o White, Ottenheimer & Baker, Baine Johnston Centre, 10 Fort William, P.O. Box 5457, St. Johns, NL, A1C 5W4.

Robert Weston Parsons, 53, of Portugal Cove-St. Philips has been charged with failing to stop at the scene of a motor vehicle accident where someone has been injured and failing to provide information and assistance to the injured person. His next court appearance is May 13.