Though young in years, Matthew was a wise, tenderhearted old soul. His heart was bigger than his home, and he often gave what he could not afford to help a stranger in need. Whether they were ill, poor, abused, or just down on their luck, Matthew would give of his time to listen, the last dollar he had in his pocket or simply take a stranger out for a meal.
Though his 6-year struggle with Melanoma was excruciating and long, he never, not once, complained. Rather, he went about making amends with those he believed he had hurt, and forgave all who had hurt him.
Matthew loved to cook, read, write, draw, paint, but especially loved to write and play music. He spent what little energy he had left to paint, record, and leave gifts for his friends and family who would remain behind. He left behind several hand-written books journaling his experience and feelings.
Though our hearts will never thoroughly heal, I am grateful that God allowed me to be Matthew’s mom, and I can’t wait to see him in Heaven (his nirvana).