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