Letters to MATTHEW

A few days after Matthew’s death I remember getting in my car one night and just driving. I wanted to drive so fast, I wanted to hit something and die. I felt so full of pain and deep, deep loss that I wanted to end my life. The only thing that stopped me from following through that night was the thought, I might take someone else out with me by mistake. Instead, I drove my car to the middle of nowhere and I screamed and cried and screamed and cried. It was the dead of night and there was no one around to hear me. I had never screamed and cried like this in my life and the sounds that came out of my body were like nothing I had ever heard before. I shook and trembled and screamed and cried some more. If anyone heard me from a distance, it would have sounded like a wild animal. It is impossible to find the words to explain the incredible pain I felt and utter disbelief that Matthew was never coming home again. After awhile I thought about my daughter and my husband and how could I not go on for them? They were hurting too. Matthew was made of tough stuff and he would be cross if I did not pull myself together. He used to say, “Mum, if I can get through this, then so can you”, and after a while I could almost hear his voice and see his face and see him holding up his clenched fist saying with determination, “Come on Mum, you can get through this”. Matthew saved me that night. Whether I imagined him there or not, he saved me. Dear Matthew, I had never really noticed the beauty in falling leaves before. The trees are gradually changing colour and they are letting go of this year’s leaves and, although I had always admired the magnificence of this time of year, I never really noticed the delightful individuality of each leaf as it fell. I was sitting in my car in a traffic jam when I noticed them falling all around. Not even a breeze in the air as they fell so slowly, so gently and silently and I wondered… does the tree mourn for each leaf? I didn’t notice the trees changing colour last year because there was so much going on. You were very poorly and our focus was on making you as comfortable as possible. The world was still spinning but for us, it felt like we were in a different dimension which consisted of nurses, doctors, anxiety, fear, desperation, frustration, hopelessness, sleepless nights, uncertainty, stress, etc. No wonder I didn’t notice the leaves changing colour last year. The trees are letting go of their leaves, teaching me to let go too. It’s a strange time of year for many reasons especially as coming into October brings the anniversary of your death much nearer but at least I have noticed the leaves changing colour this year. I am grateful for that. There is always something to be grateful for. Dear Matthew, There is a tiny robin that comes onto the patio every day and looks through the window. We have staring competitions and I usually win because he or she is very jittery, and it flies off at the slightest thing, but it isn’t long before it comes back. I had the urge to look up the spiritual meaning of a robin today because I felt it was trying to tell me something and I couldn’t believe what I read: When a robin redbreast constantly visits you or crosses your path, a loved one in heaven is saying, 'hello! I'm with you!' Well, that made my day. Thank you, Mr Robin. I hope the neighbour’s cat doesn’t catch you! Dear Matthew, I had the strangest dream last night. I was walking down a street with you somewhere; I don’t know where, but we weren’t talking. We seemed to communicate telepathically, and we instantly knew how each other felt. I connected to that lovely warm feeling that I used to get when you were a baby especially your snuggles as a toddler on the couch after your evening bath and bedtime story. I knew you could feel it too. In this dream, we went through all the different stages of your growth, from you as a tiny baby right up until your passing. We relived and experienced the deep love we shared with each other and I knew telepathically that you got this too. In the dream, time was non-existent, as we experienced our shared emotions and experiences of our lives together. I intuitively knew that we shared this experience in the dream and it seemed real. There were no words, just eye contact like we were looking into the window of each other’s soul. The best way to explain it is that we became one in the dream, but at the same time I could see you and you were looking at me. It was an incredible encounter in my dream which I am finding quite difficult to explain in words.