When you walk through a storm........hold your head up high...

 My dear, dear Matthew,
A door opened once again this last week, unbidden and unexpected, back to the depths of grief I felt almost 6 years ago. A suddeness, a shaking, a dropping into the dark chasm of pain.
It swept me off my feet and squeezed the breath out of my body.
Maybe it was worse because I wasn't well for a few days and spent sleepless nights propped up with several pillows unable to breathe properly until the vicious 'flu like symptoms abated.

 Several days earlier we had welcomed into our home for a few days, your widow and her new husband, also called Matthew, and spent a few days getting to know him a little better. You would like him. He is a gentle soul. And it could not have been easy for him to come and stay, where there are photos of you all over the house. 

He met once again your brother and his wife and 1 year old son, when we had a family get together  last Sunday. 

But, and I say it honestly, after a while it became more apparent to me, as they left to tour around other places for a few days, that I was beginning to feel more emotional and painful. (Maybe the onset of the flu like virus did not exactly help.)

 When the house became quiet again, it felt strange. 

Not something I could control, which is always a scary place for me. Why? I asked myself ? Why now? 

Ok I wasn't well, but it was deeper than that. 

A door had been opened once again, into those awful days of early grief, when tiredness and pain were constant companions. This new relationship which has presented itself, only serves to highlight the fact that it is not you by her side anymore. Even when I know that, and accept it, wholeheartedly without question, liking him very much.      

It is a gaping hole, that can never be filled, or cemented in, even the depths of which can never be plumbed, nor healed, it goes down into the abyss, endless, vast and alone. 

You are gone. 

Gone from me, 

My child that I bore,

That I so loved and will do forever,

From your first breath 

Till your last 

When I was not able to hold you in my arms and wish you goodbye, 

And others gathered your broken body 

From that nightmare scene,

Whilst we were still unaware........

Then a Silence of you..............

No Longer a presence of you............

   

           

But our love for you will never die, and you will never be forgotten.

Forever your mumxxxx

A different life.........

My lovely son, contemplating as you sit by the candle light in your garden, the year that we lost you......
We are this week contemplating a visit from your widow.
Only she is bringing with her a new husband, also called Matthew. And her surname has changed.
I know that you met him, years ago, at the Christian festival Soul Survivor, and it is good that he knew you briefly.
She now lives and works in America, at the same Christian College as her husband in Dallas.

It is what we prayed for her, after the devastating loss, that she would one day meet someone again   with whom she could share her life.
And God has a way of being surprising at times!

BUT
We are facing a whole new different relationship, and with the sense of pleasure that we have to see her remarry and begin a new life, comes the immediate knowledge that it was because you died that the whole of our lives were altered and shattered on that awful night.

We are always in the process of rebuilding, and trying to make sense of where we are now.
But it is the "where we are now" that has to be faced each day that goes by.

This is another of those "first" experiences, in the same category as birthdays, anniversaries and Christmas.  

SO we greet a new couple this weekend for the first time, whom we have not seen since last year. Now almost married 12 months, and will negotiate the fact that it would have been your own Wedding Anniversary on Sunday. It seems so incomprehensible to grasp.
A bit like about to negotiate a minefield.........you never know how you are going to cope, or what will happen......except we have to go through it.

I miss you.

I found a letter someone had  written to us just after you died,
And I quote from it now......

" I struggle to make  sense of the death of Matthew and why you should have to go through such grief, But at the same time, I give thanks to God for the tremendous person Matthew was - his faith, his personality, his desire to serve God wholeheartedly."

We go on, without you, this weekend into territory as yet uncharted, holding Jesus' hand.  
May the Lord watch over you for us.

Mum  xxx




    

Seven autumns,seven winters............. 2006-2012

Here I am again, thinking of you..........

Since you left, we have had seven autumns and seven winters,

Six springs and six summers. 

The autumn you left is remembered as a blur of pain, 

Punctuated by beautiful sunlit skies, and glorious sunsets, 

After the hottest summer we experienced in years. 

It seemed so incongruous, to live with all that beauty 

And all that vibrancy, 

When you could not see it. 

And we could never see you again. 

I took refuge in the solace of our garden,

It was one of the only places that I felt really safe. 

And in the passing of the years and seasons until now, 

I have spent hours out there................

I have changed the garden, just as I have changed, 

Only I wanted it to be a place awash with colour 

Reflecting the way that I always think of you 

Smiling, laughing, caring. 

So if you could see it today, 

I know you would love it. 

I painted this from a photograph I took 4 weeks after you died. It was a day that made me feel, just for a little while, that I could go on living.  

                      I had gone into the local park to find somewhere to be on my own and sit awhile. 

The sunlight began to filter through the trees and just for a short time, I felt that I would, maybe, be able one day to enjoy the beauty around me, without the crushing weight of loss.  I did not immediately set to work as I was so devastatingly tired.

I began in the depth of that winter of 2006/7 and finished it by March 2007, when it won  a place in the Local Sutton Artist's exhibition. You would have been so proud.  

                         

It is framed and on the wall in our lounge, a reminder that now after all this time I can enjoy beautiful days without the agony I felt then, because those days only served to remind me that you could not share them. 

You loved the park, and you also took photos there.              

Matt's photo taken in summer 2006, Sutton  Park. 

The autumn colours  appear on the leaves of the cherry tree planted in memory of Matt, in the grounds of the school opposite our house. The school he attended till he was 11 years old.

So, Matt, as the evenings now begin to shorten with the onset of winter, and dusk descends at 5.00pm, as your dad and I were tidying up the garden for it's winter sleep today, I thought of you. Seven winters and seven autumns, we miss you.
Love mumxx  

Wearing your name. October 5th 2012

 Dear Matthew,

We have had a busy couple of weekends recently. Your brother celebrated his 28th birthday on 29th September and on 5th October his own son reached his first birthday. So we thought of you, as we always do, each and every day that goes by, and wished you could have been there to celebrate both events. 

Samuel had a party the day after his birthday, and it was a beautifully sunny autumn day. Saturday October 6th. We had travelled down for his actual birthday being greeted by his huge smile as we arrived at the house. 

But the sense of you not being there was very real. It is so hard to explain how in such a happy occasion I can feel the sharp pang of grief mixed in. Your nephew is a happy, generally laid back, child. And you will never see him on this earth.  

1st Birthday party for our grandson
 Samuel Robin Sellers

 It seems so long ago now, your first birthday, but the memories are stirred and I have to express how I feel. As I write it is a glorious October morning with crisp, sharp light and changing colours on the trees. We arrived home again late yesterday afternoon. But, Matthew, I found a tangible way, for me at least, of taking you with us to Samuel's party weekend.
Last year your Graduation tee-shirt was returned to us with several more of your things that your young widow thought we would like, before she went to live, and remarry, in America. I found it in the bottom of a cupboard, when I was looking for something else. Your dad had put it there so I wouldn't see it and be distressed.      

Matthew on his first  birthday. April 23rd 1977 

 I took it out and held it close to me, and the tears welled up unbidden. I eventually took out the other things and I put them in the wash. As they dried outside on the line, I looked again at your tee-shirt and once it was ironed, I put it on. It was comforting to wear your name. So I packed it in the overnight bag, and wore it to sleep in on Friday evening. I am wearing it as I write this, the morning after the birthday party.    

Graduation tee-shirt.

So, Matthew, when I go to bed I wear your name, next to me.

Love you always and forever,

Mumxx

Portsmouth University 1998.

September 10th 2012. 6 Years on.

 Stephen. Summit of La Chapelle St Jacques.
Cavaillon, Provence France.
9th September 2012

Dear Matt,

Your dad and I are in South West France. Tomorrow we are going to the old Cathedral here to light two candles. One for you and one for Chris. 

We don't know how we will feel, except that already today, we know we are going to have to face the inevitability of another anniversary of that tragic night 6 years ago.

We have talked of you often during the two weeks that we have been working our way from North to South West arriving in Provence 5 days ago. 

You would love the sunshine, the heat and the blue, blue skies...........

But there is one thing I know that will never ever change, 

Wherever I am in this world, you are not. 

Whenever I long to talk to you, there will be no reply.

Whenever I long to see you, your absence is profound.

To hear you say, "I love you mum" when I desperately, desperately need to know, and cannot. 

To feel your arms enfold me, when they never will again

To have those discussions that spiralled up and went nowhere as we disagreed! 

Yes, Matt, even that! 

We who love you always and forever, walked into a parallel world the night you left, and walk in it still. A world that forever changed and altered. 

A world in which we walk without you, and wish you were here every day. 

A world where other people's loss touches us more deeply. 

Because we loved you so much, our hearts were shattered, and although we have to go on, we will forever bear the scars which hold the shattered pieces together. 

A mark of the depth of our love for you. 

So, Matt, until we meet again, we hold on to the memories of you, and walk on.............        

Thinking of you Matt
Love mumxx

Matthew Milford Sellers
1976-2006

Engraved on the Palms of my hands

Matt at "Devil's Frying Pan" near Coverack,
 Cornwall 2003

His dad, same place, 2007.
One year after Matt's death  

I have not written a blog for the 10th September, but leave it to my husband, who has written so eloquently about our son. And in the second one  about a mother's loss.  Read the link to the article in the Economist. It is intensely moving.......   

Engraved on the palms of my hands

Here is FreeLanceNerd, (as he later called himself in his blog)
 We still have the photo of Teapot holding him which you can see in this pic, standing on the shelf in the background.  Now it sits looking at the fireplace in our dining area.

We saw his nephew Samuel,  or Sammy as I heard his mum say a few times, on Saturday, and he would give FLN a fair run for his money in the smiling stakes. Funny that as Curly Al, his dad, was not quite at the races when the smiles were on.

 September approaches - the cruelest month - to ape TS Eliot. I was struck by Matthew Maynard who had given interviews last week at a memorial cricket match for his son Tom between Surrey and Glamorgan. Tom, a promising Surrey cricketer,  died in June after trying to cross a London Tube line and being hit by a train. His father now carries tattoos on his arms with words in memory of Tom.

Memories are engraved deep within us. And there are plenty I am pleased to say about FLN. There is something remarkable about the ability to bring the past into the present however imperfect that may be sometimes. I often bring those memories to mind in our church of an evening where he would come and take part and worship. We were finishing our series in the prophet Isaiah last night and I found myself turning the pages to chapter 49 where the Sovereign Lord says.

"See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands"

There is something deeper here than a tattoo. And for all of us for whom September is the cruelest month we are comforted immeasurably by the knowledge we are never forgotten, held always in the memory of the God.

FRIDAY, 24 AUGUST 2012

A pair of spectacles

On this day when our most read newspaper self righteously publishes Prince Harry's photo in his birthday suit in the interests of the need to know press freedom and oh of course profit your blogger has decided on a more sombre piece.

Friday is the day the Economist drops on the welcome mat of the Tardis and one of its special features is the obituary page right at the end of the magazine. Here lives are remembered from all sorts of walks and backgrounds. Last week I read the story of Sir Bernard Lovell who died at 98 and forever linked to the Jodrell Bank radio telescope in Cheshire.

Today I read about Winnie Johnson the mother of Keith Bennett, the only child victim of Myra Hindley and Ian Brady whose body was never found on Saddleworth Moor, a wild lonely place not that far from Sir Bernard's telescope. Winnie died last week. Here is the article with another photo courtesy of the Sun.

http://www.economist.com/node/21560832

The last paragraph captures a haunting sadness of nearly 50 years. Although I have lost a son I can only touch the edge of the depth of the suffering and despair of this mother. I suspect Keith's remains will never be found.

4 weeks and counting down............10th August to 10th September.

 A poignant journey. 

Last Friday, 3rd August,  we drove to the Wirral to spend the day with a friend, Lois.
It was the same journey Matt and Chris were making when they were tragically killed. They were going to stay with her overnight, before boarding a plane the next morning from Liverpool to Spain. Lois was Chris's closest friend.

  They never arrived.

They had been at the England One Day International Cricket Match v Pakistan at Edgbaston in the afternoon, with a group of mates. It was the beginning of a break for Chris from his busy role as our church Pastoral Minister. With a membership of 550, and a congregation of c 600, there was a lot to watch over.

 So, they left Birmingham, waving goodbye to Matt's wife as they left his house, and died about 30 minutes later at the hands of a lorry driver who had fallen asleep at the wheel. Lois waited all night, and was frantic.
The Police called us at 2.30am to Matt's home where his wife was waiting...............nothing ever, ever, in this world prepares you for that.......................
Last Friday, we made the journey they would have taken, for the first time. Lois usually comes to see us, and Chris's sister, and family.
 Of course when we arrived it was an emotional event for all of us.
But we talked about them, and had a tour round the district. Lois took the photo when we were out for a walk.
It was a good day, and one we will repeat.
But Matt and Chris, we all said the same thing,
Once August arrives, we know September is coming.
Miss you, both.        
         

Chris Rankin and Matt Sellers.
(Insert in local press. September 2006)

Yesterday I sobbed in the arms of your brother.

Sun beginning to set. July 19th 2012 

I think of you 

From first light 

Till dusk.

You are only ever a heartbeat away.......

Until my heart stops its beating 

And stills........ 

I think of you as I hold my grandson in my arms

As you look out at us 

From behind the glass 

Of your picture frame.....

He brings me joy

And in that joy

I feel the pain of indefinable sadness

That you will not see him 

 On this earth.......

And suddenly 

I am overwhelmed

Unexpectedly............

The tears beginning to fall

And your brother.

Proud father to his young son 

Suddenly 

Crosses the room

And folds me in his arms

Saying

"I miss him too...................."

"I love you mum,"

So we sat

The two of us

And held each other tight

Knowing 

We will never be the same.

Both 

Tacitly facing 

A new month 

And the inexorable 

March of the days

From August 

To September......................

A few short weeks...............

Which relentlessly

Move

At the turning of the pages 

Of a calendar

Towards 

That date

That dreaded, awful date

Of a September evening........

When life was forever changed.................

 

Matthew July 2006.

   

   

 

 

  

Old photos.

May 2005 California

Dear Matt,
When I want to see you, I go to look at the old photos.
I have to say "old" now, as they have a start date, on the day  you were born, and an end date, after you were suddenly taken from us.
There are now no more photos, as there are now no more memories to add.
But the ones we have are so, so, very important, and precious.
It is a chronicle of your life here on earth.
A life lived with your family, and for a few short years as a young married man.
Your middle name was chosen on the day you were born.
It is your grandad's middle name.
I am glad that you and he were so close.
I miss you, both.
The one taken before his time, and the other at the end of a long life.
You have both left your legacy with us, in so many different ways.
 
 And we will come home to you both, in the fullness of our own time.
But, until then, I sometimes sit and sift through the photos, seeing once again your cheeky grin, or smiley face, and you looking right back at me.

Matthew Milford Sellers
with
Leslie Milford Sellers,
his grandad. 2004  

I can hear your voice and when I am in church, often "see" you where you used to be, near the front, standing to worship.
People still tell me about the evening two days before you died, when you went around the little assembled Friday prayer group and prayed for each one. It became even more special to each one of them, in the light of what happened 48 hours later, which shocked the church to the core and then reverberated outwards like some vast tidal wave, to our families, friends and wider community.
  
 So, in this soggy, rain-soaked summer, there have not been many days to spend in outdoor activities, and as the rain has poured relentlessly down, you would have been longing for the sun!
Oh how I miss you, Matt.
I want to feel your hug and hear you say "I love you mum"

After 6 years, you do learn to live with the emptiness, but it is always there. How can it be otherwise?

Cadgwith. The Lizard. Cornwall.
May 1997

So, my lovely, lovely firstborn son, smiling out at me now, we will always love you, always remember, and when people ask me, as they do(!)   "How are you?"

It depends how I feel about answering.........

I know that after 6 years, some of them think I should have "moved on" whatever that means!

It isn't possible to leave you behind, Matt. 

We carry you with us, a permanent physical scarring. 

You were bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh. A part of me.

So when a newly bereaved friend asked me recently, " When does the pain go away?" I thought long and hard before answering. 

I was silent. And hugged her tight.   

    

Spain. May 2006. 

  

Back home from The Lizard. June 2012

Hi Matt,

 Here I am back home once more. We enjoyed our week in Mullion with your brother and his family, going to various places and the old familiar ones.  And we talked about you, and how you are so missed......forever...... a hole, a gaping hole, in our family which you used to occupy.
And somehow, that underground grief which flows ever on welled up at the beginning of the holiday, when we heard the awful news of the sudden death of someone else we knew very well.

Mullion Cove. Cornwall. June 2012

Our friend had expressed her wish that we should not be told until we got home, and was upset that we had heard the way we did  but somehow someone else "thought we should know". So I received the news at the beginning of our first family holiday with our grandson, by a text, which although not stating what had happened, made my blood run cold, and eventually after several frantic phone calls we were given the truth.

I would say that it is not really the best way to learn devastating news.      

For me it meant it had a double effect. The shock making me feel helpless and sick, and then the thought of all that the newly bereaved family, in the loss of their husband and dad at a relatively early age, were going to have to face. It affected my son, and so his wife. Seeing the immediate effects.

It reverberated round my emotions for days, not being able to sleep very well, and constantly having flashbacks to the night we had our own phone call in the early hours of the morning. It made  the last 6 years melt away until it was as if I was living through it all over again.

Porthleven harbour

St Ives beach. 

We have visited the family today, having returned home yesterday, and the sheer rawness of the grief and shock is self evident. Nothing ever, ever, prepares you for the sudden death of a loved one, so alive one minute, and then.......................a call...................  

So, Matthew, we had our week, and as we knew there was nothing we could do at that point, I found great solace in the daily routine which began with our grandson having his breakfast, sitting in his high chair and beaming when he saw us first thing in the morning. He is a very smiley baby, now 8 months old, and he brings us much joy. I wish you could see him.

The path to Lizard Point

You would recognise the now familiar path which winds it's way down to the Most Southerly Point in the British Isles. This time of the year there is the yellow of the wild field mustard, mingling with the other flowers by the wayside.  And we went to sit on your rock, and I picked some sea pinks, or thrift as it is known and dropped in the small flower heads one by one, as we remembered you.
We already chose a house in which to stay next year! All of us once more. By that time your nephew will be almost two years old and walking.
So we left your rock once more and walked back along the cliffs to the sound of the waves and the sight of the shifting, ever changing sea.
In my heart Matt.............love you. Mumxx      

Mesembryanthemums growing wild on the cliffs at Lizard Point.

Cornwall once more............

Dear Matt, On Saturday we are going to Cornwall once again, Having beaten a path to it's door for the last 20 years. Always going to the same timeless place. Mullion Cove, on the Lizard Peninsula. Our new grandson and his mum and dad are coming too. He was there with us last year, hidden to the world being carried within his mother. 

It is a place we all love so much. And it is the place where you rest, close to the sea, hidden in a rock. A secret place known only to us. Your grandad also loved it, and called it "Timeless".       

Mullion Cove 

 But you and grandad are no longer with us making our annual trek South. We miss you both, and will do what we always do thinking of you both. We will have a Cornish Cream Tea, so beloved of grandad, and will visit your rock, which we call "Matt's Rock". This we do separately, your dad and I on our own, and your brother and his wife on their own. Space to reflect and remember you.    

 The picture of the boat being launched was taken in 2004, which was the last holiday at Mullion that you shared with us. A glorious week! As you went with your wife to California in 2005, to meet your old friend, who was married by that time. So this picture has a significance of it's own. Another "last time you were with us" one.

Here is my dad, your grandad, on his last visit with us, your dad and I, in 2005, not being able to make it in the years to come due to his health, enjoying the last of the afternoon sun at Lizard Point, not far from where you are now hidden in a rock by the edge of the sea, where the lighthouse nearby throws it's beam into the darkness each night.
      And this morning, sorting through one or two things, I came across a letter I had written to you in 1993, which you had kept. You were staying at home whilst we were on holiday with grandad and your brother.
I quote from it now,
" Dear Matt,
We've had the most glorious week for weather. Day after day of unbroken sunshine and blue skies. You would love this corner of England. The scenery is superb. Mile after mile of unspoilt coastline with spectacular sea views and lovely coves and beaches..................
      Grandad says it's the best weather he's had since we went on holiday as a family to Torquay when I was 16 years old! ..............
Mullion is a typical Cornish village and has a good old-fashioned pub which does really first class lunches. We've sampled one there already!
We've been up the Lizard lighthouse and visited the Cornish Seal Sanctuary, which has wonderful views across the Helford River..................
Please water my plants before we get back........."

So as grandad said "It's timeless" and we are glad it is your resting place.  

Lots of love, forever, mumxx

Greeting the dawn.............13th May 2012

 Sometimes Matthew, I waken very early in the morning, especially when the daylight hours are growing longer. The dawn chorus of the birds is reaching it's crescendo, reminding me of the day you were born that glorious late April 1976. I laid in my hospital bed as the day unfolded and there was a blackbird singing just outside the window. The beginning of a long, hot summer. I felt incredibly happy. Newborn son asleep.      

 But it's your dad I want to talk about today. He recently had an 11 week course to become a fully bona fide cricketing umpire.He went off yesterday to his first match, being his début and being supervised he, and I, (who would have been stressed let's face it!) decided he was better to go alone. Once he has found his feet I will be accompanying him.
As he donned his gear, I felt the old familiar tears well up. You would have been so proud of him. And no doubt would have gone to one or two of his matches. I thought about his own dad, whom you and your brother called  Grandad John, and his mum Granny Sellers, both cricketing afficianados. Indeed they took your dad to his first match when he was still a babe in arms, pushing his pram to the local ground! How pleased they would've been too.

Matt in the garden. 2002 

 So, once again, my memories were stirred and images of you so clear in my mind that I so wanted to be able to talk to you and share all the news. Inevitably, I woke early thinking of you and it was such a beautiful daybreak. I wandered up the garden at 4.15am, and took the photos. I always feel that God knew exactly what He was doing when he created that very first special garden. I find the reality of ours so comforting, and therapeutic. What a creation we have in all it's joyfulness!
I forever miss you, to a depth so profound I cannot see the end, and the enormity of the loss so vaste and wide, that it surrounds me. But we have the promise that creation will be redeemed, and oh what a day that will be! And what a hope we have in our own redemption! So in the midst of deep deep pain and loss, there can be joy.          
So
"You are the Lord
The Saviour of all
God of creation we praise you,
We sing the songs that awaken the dawn,
God of creation we praise you!"

Definately out!!

 Love you Matt, always.
So "Until the day breaks and the shadows flee away," may Jesus hold you close.

Dawn in the garden. 

Simply Matthew. April 23rd 2012.

Family walk. Cornwall. 2004 

Typical of Matt's sense of humour! 

Matt's photo of the sunrise in Mullion. Cornwall. 2004 

Matt and Chris, our Pastoral Minister at the Baptist Church.   
 Matt's 29th birthday in 2005. (Chris and Matt were both killed in an accident in September 2006.)

Lake Tahoe. 1998

Morocco 2000

Summer 2006

Vannes. France

First day at school. 1981 April. 

At a friends' birthday party

His first attendance at a wedding!

My dad, me and Matt. Cornwall. 2004