In Loving Memory of Matthew
My son Matthew was 28 years old. I can't believe I'm writing that sentence in the past tense. We lost Matthew suddenly. His passing was accidental, but the truth is he'd been quietly carrying battles with anxiety and depression for a long time — battles most people never saw, because that was Matthew. Private. Strong for everyone else. The last person in the room to ask for help.
If you knew my boy, you knew the laugh first. The humor, the quick wit, the way he could walk into a room and make it lighter just by being in it. He was an avid gamer, a loyal friend, and above everything else, a family man. He loved his people fiercely — his sister, his mom, his grandparents, his uncles, and more friends than I can count. He showed up for them. He gave what he had, even when he didn't have much to give. He put everyone else first, every single time. That was just who he was.
As his dad, I always thought I had more time. More holidays. More phone calls. More dumb little arguments about nothing. I'd give anything in this world for one more. I never imagined I'd be asking for help like this. Our family is doing everything we can to give Matthew the funeral and burial he deserves, but the costs are more than we can carry on our own.
Anything you can give — a few dollars, a share of this page, a memory of Matthew you'd be willing to send our way — means more to us than I have words for right now. Thank you for loving our boy. Thank you for carrying a little bit of this weight with us. We are broken, but we are not alone, and that is because of people like you.
With all my love and gratitude,
Douglas
My son Matthew was 28 years old. I can't believe I'm writing that sentence in the past tense. We lost Matthew suddenly. His passing was accidental, but the truth is he'd been quietly carrying battles with anxiety and depression for a long time — battles most people never saw, because that was Matthew. Private. Strong for everyone else. The last person in the room to ask for help.
If you knew my boy, you knew the laugh first. The humor, the quick wit, the way he could walk into a room and make it lighter just by being in it. He was an avid gamer, a loyal friend, and above everything else, a family man. He loved his people fiercely — his sister, his mom, his grandparents, his uncles, and more friends than I can count. He showed up for them. He gave what he had, even when he didn't have much to give. He put everyone else first, every single time. That was just who he was.
As his dad, I always thought I had more time. More holidays. More phone calls. More dumb little arguments about nothing. I'd give anything in this world for one more. I never imagined I'd be asking for help like this. Our family is doing everything we can to give Matthew the funeral and burial he deserves, but the costs are more than we can carry on our own.
Anything you can give — a few dollars, a share of this page, a memory of Matthew you'd be willing to send our way — means more to us than I have words for right now. Thank you for loving our boy. Thank you for carrying a little bit of this weight with us. We are broken, but we are not alone, and that is because of people like you.
With all my love and gratitude,
Douglas