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.