There is a giant concrete culvert that runs under the road leading to my parent's house, water running through it. On either side, there are thick woods and of course, the creek that winds and bends through all the trees. That culvert (my brothers and I referred to it as "the concrete pipe") is about four feet in diameter-- big enough for kids to run through if they're crouching.. and about fifty feet long.
The first time I ran through it will always be ingrained in mind, especially now, since it was with Matt. That memory has been tumbling around in my head recently.
Matt was ten years old and I was five. He was sick and had been home for a week, which was not unusual for him. I hadn't started Kindergarten yet so I was so happy for him to be home with me. We'd lay around watching movies, playing Legos and building forts.
My parents were of course very concerned about Matt when he was sick and usually didn't want him running around outside, afraid it would cause his asthma to flair up, sending him into an attack.
We got restless one afternoon though and I remember after eating lunch, we told my mom we were going to play downstairs.
Once we got down there, Matt looked at me and grinned, "Wanna play in the woods?" I grinned back-- as if he even had to ask. We snuck out the sliding door and made a dash for the bank that led down into the woods. We caught countless frogs and splashed through the creek until we were soaking wet head to toe.
We followed the winding creek until we reached the culvert. I stopped for a moment and scrunched up my nose. I had never gone through it before and let's be honest.. I was five and it was a dark, scary tunnel that I was quite certain contained spiders. Nevertheless, it had become a rite of passage in our neighborhood for kids to run through it so I slowly inched towards it.
Matt climbed up the slippery rocks leading to the opening and looked back, noticing my hesitation. "Come on, Mellie, it's not hard. Grab my hand and I'll show you how to do it."
I reached up and he pulled me into the opening of the pipe and we stood staring down the tunnel into the darkness to the light that shone brightly on the other side.
Straddling the water that runs down the middle of the culvert, you have to crouch down and shift your weight back and forth from one leg to the other so you not only keep moving down the pipe but you also don't fall into the water. Matt did it effortlessly and I, of course, had to fall in once before I could get the hang of it. As we reached the middle of the tunnel I tried not to think about the darkness and the spiders and the overall creepiness of being under the road.
I stopped and looked behind me. Was that a spiderweb that had just gotten stuck in my hair? And oh.. my.. gosh.. was that a SPIDER crawling on the wall two inches from my face?! The claustrophobia set in and started choking me.
I looked forward again and Matt was no where to be seen. Gone. I was all alone in this horrible, dark, spider-y tunnel of doom.
I panicked. "Matt?" My timid little voice echoed off the concrete in unison with the dripping water.
My brother's face popped into view from the circular opening at the tunnel's end. He grinned and motioned for me to keep going. "Come on, Mellie, keep going. Just like I showed you. You're almost here."
Taking a deep breath and ducking down, I went as fast as I could towards my brother and away from the darkness.
I can remember him smiling and taking my hand, pulling me out to land on the other side of the woods. "You did it!"
Twenty-two years later, I feel like I'm back in the middle of the concrete pipe. Alone. Scared. Listening to the dripping water and hearing my own pulse as it drums loudly against my temples.
My throat feels raw and tears are in my eyes as I whisper, "Matt?"
There is nothing but silence now. An empty echo of pain that ricochets and slams right back into me.
I know he is there, but it's not the same. I know he can see us and watches us, cheers us on and is the one whispering in my ear to do the right thing. I believe he keeps a special watch over his nephew and nieces. It's all so different now though, nothing is the same. I so badly wish for him to be here and take me by the hand like when we were little kids and help me over and through obstacles that seem so daunting in life.
One year. Seems like an eternity and yet it's passed in the blink of eye. Sometimes in the middle of the night I'll wake up and hear those words fluttering in my mind, those horrible words from that night, that have been stamped like a hot iron into my memory from the phone call telling me he was dead.
Oh Matt, if only you were here. Lately I've been thankful you don't have to deal with the devastation that has tore through our family like wildfire over the past twelve months. The dark, twisted heartbreak that has slithered into every facet of our lives. I'm thankful there are no tears where you are now.
"And if you were with me tonight / I'd sing to you just one more time / A song for a heart so big / God couldn't let it live.." ~Jimmy Eat World
This past year has hardened me in ways I never could have imagined. I like to think I have a decent sense of humor and up until last October, I had a pretty carefree way of viewing the world but since then, due to all of the pain and heartache, it's a fight to find those moments where laughter turns to a cackle and eyes twinkle with excitement. Life has a way of beating the rough edges off of people but.. if you're not careful.. it can also strip you of your innocence and smother your spark of wonder and child-like excitement for your hopes and dreams in life.
Matt drove a blue Trailerblazer and I see them EVERYWHERE now. Last month one appeared in my rear view mirror and it wasn't just the vehicle, but the driver also resembled my brother. I looked up just in time to slam on the brakes so I didn't rear-end the person stopped in front of me. The man in the Trailblazer pulled up next to me and I know he for SURE thought I was crazy because I kept watching him out of the corner of my eye. I knew, of course, that he was not my brother, but being able to see someone that could've been his twin-- running his fingers through his hair, drinking coffee, full of life, made my heart skip a beat and was oddly comforting, if only for a moment.
There are so many things I wish I could tell Matt now. I wish I could show him my rooster tattoo (Although I can totally picture him laughing his signature laugh, running his thumb and forefinger along his jawline, turning his head to the side and inspecting my forearm and us smirking about all the people that were so horrified of my getting a tattoo. "Keep 'em on their toes, little sis," is what he'd said to me so many times throughout the years.) I wish I could tell him that Ella grips the guitar pick that hangs from around my neck in her little fist when I rock her to sleep. Or how Anna will tell total strangers in the grocery store, "My Uncle Matt plays the guitar.. and he's in Heaven." (Although instead of "guitar" she calls it a " 'tar. " I know he'd get such a kick out of that.) Or the way Patrick prays at bedtime and asks to be able to see Uncle Matt again someday. I wish he could know my kids now.
Then I remember.. he does know them now. He does see them and all of us. He knows all the things I've wished I could tell him and I really think I can feel him at the grave sometimes when I'm there.
Every scar, every wound I've ever had has been ripped open this past year, completely exposed. The wound from my brother's death stands as one that will never heal, it will never have the chance to become a scar because it continually gushes pain. In truth, I don't want it to heal. To heal feels like betrayal to me. I'd much rather soak in an ocean of hurt in remembrance of him than heal.. and feel like I'm leaving him behind.
The grief over Matt's death has brought Lisa's death sharply back into focus. I understand now why people have trouble going to funerals after their loved one dies. It brings it all back.
It's hard to not see things in terms of death or as a tribute to my brother.. and Lisa.
This summer when I climbed onto the Millenium Force at Cedar Point with my niece (who by the way is fearless), it wasn't just her sweet smile or my love of rollercoasters that lured me onto the ride. I couldn't get the thought out of my mind that I'd be 310 feet closer to Matt and to Lisa. Was there some part of me that thought I'd find them on the top of that ride? Or was it the hope that maybe, just maybe, if I reached my arms up high enough I'd be able to brush hands with them.. even if only for a moment.
The last time I had ridden that ride was with Lisa. We were both nineteen. I remember scrunching my eyes closed as we reached the top of the first hill. The girl behind me screaming hysterically so I could tell when we were at the top. You know that moment right before you go flying down the hill when you reach the very top of the rollercoaster and it feels like you're totally still, almost like everything freezes? It was then that Lisa had leaned over to me and whispered, "Mellie, open your eyes."
Maybe it sounds hard to believe but eight years later, clicking to the top of that very same rollercoaster, I could still hear her saying that, like she was right there with me.
I miss Matt. I miss Lisa. Come on already, can't they just come back??
It's during the darkest times of your life that you find out who your true friends are. You'll be surprised by some people you considered friends that go running scared, unsure of how to react to the grief. Then there are those friends who reach out for your hand, to let you know they're there through thick and thin.. and there are new friends who come to stand beside you, who are so kind and thoughtful when they do not have to be.. and become your favorite friends and ones you can trust and depend on.
My intent isn't to turn this into some kind of morbid acceptance speech but there are some people that I'd like to thank for being amazing friends. They're my best friends, my A-list. I never would've had a chance of making it through this past year without them.
Amy Ridenour-Wilson-- She is my best friend. She is one of the kindest, most loyal people I've ever known. She can be a fierce unstoppable force when it comes to defending her family and I am so thankful I can consider her my sister. She laughs with me, cries with me and is pretty much the reason why someone came up with the saying, "God couldn't handle us as sisters, so he made us best friends." She is an awesome aunt to my kids and has stood by me every moment of this past year, even during some of my classic late-night emotional meltdowns. I am so thankful to have her in my life.
I love you, Amy.
Mike Tenniswood-- My big brother. One of the two best big brother's in the world. Over the past year I have become closer with him than ever. He understands what I'm feeling when no one else does. Not sure if it's some kind of ESP between siblings but we always know when the other is having a hard day and missing Matt so much. This year has been so hard on Mike, he and Matt were so close. I've always appreciated Mike and the big brother that he has been to me but these past months have made me so thankful to have someone I can really lean on and knows the searing pain of the death of a sibling. He is an amazing father to his three little girls and is such a strong individual.
I love you, Mike.
Lindsey Powers-- My Lindsey, my best friend, my BFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEE (but she's the only one that will understand that part :D). She's one of the strongest people I know and despite all that she has piled on her plate, she will drop everything to help me (or anyone for that matter). She's there when I need her --even at 2AM (and aren't those the BEST kind of friends??). She knows what truly soothes the soul -- ice cream, laughter and fifty feet of bubble wrap (If you've never went nuts with bubble wrap.. you should. It's unbelievably therapeutic.) I love her and am very thankful for her.
I love you, Lindsey.
Mike Smith-- My best buddy. His name has been a household favorite since I was two years old. He's been Matt's best friend since they were in second grade and has helped me navigate through the darkest days I've known. Mike is loyalty and compassion. He isn't loyal to my brother only in death.. but he was all through Matt's life. I can trust him with absolutely anything. When I'm heartbroken and drowning in grief he's the first dive in and bring me to the surface to catch my breath. Whether we're getting matching rooster tattoos, making our weekly trip to the grave or he's bringing me Taco Bell at midnight to cheer me up, one thing is for sure.. he's my best buddy. I know my brother smiles at the thought of me now being best friends with his best friend.
I love you, Mike.
Lisa Webb-- She comes from one of the most loving and big-hearted families I've ever met. I am confident she and her parents, sister, husband and daughters are among the most wonderful people on Earth. The empathy that radiates from Lisa is phenomenal. She's no fair-weather friend. She hasn't just been around for the fun stuff but she's willing to swim into the dark waters where I am found so often these days, to drag me back to shore. She's one of my "forever friends" and I'm very thankful for her.
I love you, Lisa.
There are countless others who have went out of their way to be SO kind and helpful and who, I am quite certain, we wouldn't have survived without.
When Patrick started preschool two years ago we went in not knowing anyone from the school to emerging with an *AMAZING* group of friends. The "preschool moms" (who I guess at some point I should start referring to as "Kindergarten moms," since that's what we are now) have no idea how much they mean to me and their support has been invaluable over the past year. Funny how total strangers morph into your favorite people. I love each one of you so much!
So ends the first year without my brother. Chapters have closed, doors have been slammed shut and irreparable damage has been done. I hate sounding like I'm having this giant pity party (well today I actually am but I mean on a regular basis) but.. it is what it is.
In dealing with tragedy, my eyes have been opened to what really matters. I would literally do anything to bring my brother back but in dealing with his death, it has changed the way I look at life.. and I mean that in a good way.
The people we love are what really matters. They are.. everything. Life is too short to spend it any other way than surrounded by the people you love.
I love you, Matt. We all miss you so much. Gone but never forgotten. Xoxo.
