My heart was broken September 17, 2002; Matthew had a brain tumor. A short time later, after a five hour surgical procedure, it was definitively identified as choroid plexus carcinoma, a very rare tumor.
Matthew died April 30, 2007.
In that time frame were treatments of steroids, chemotherapy, radiation, stem cell transplants, MRI’s, injections, interminable hospitable stays, feeding tubes, and countless assaults on his frail body. Matthew very rarely cried. He astounded nurses and doctors who approached him with all manner of needles by extending a finger or an arm. I was constantly amazed by how brave he was.
During this time frame and in Greg’s words, “Matthew really enjoyed his childhood.” He ran, he rode his bike, he skied, he swam, he fished, he cooked, he laughed and he sang. He inhaled life and he exhaled joy. How does this happen? I don’t know but I know it does.
I sometimes wonder what Matthew could have done had he had what is considered a normal life-time. I dismiss those thoughts as I embrace what his short life has given us: That exhaled joy! As I struggle through my days without him I am so thankful for the time I had with him. I wake every morning and remember that joy and tell Matthew that I will find it, for him.