A year ago today, my friend Matt passed away.
I think about him every day and he is still constantly in my prayers. And while there has been grief, there has also been the healing that comes with time. But when someone that important leaves your life, there is a strong urge not only to remember them, but an urge that his memory should not fade in others as well.
For that reason, I am reposting what I wrote the day after he passed.
Eternal Rest, Grant Unto Him O Lord and Perpetual Light Shine Upon Him. May His Soul and All the Souls of the Faithful Departed Through the Mercy of God Rest in Peace. Amen.
(original post 6/4/25)
Yesterday my friend died.
Matt became one of my best friends at a time when I did not think I would gain any more best friends.
Please pray for the repose of his soul and pray for his wife and family that he leaves behind.
When I think of what words I can use to express how I am feeling, I am at a bit of a loss. I've always felt that there are things we experience that are incapable of being put into words. I also find that when I do try to formulate something, it is a quote or a paraphrase from a story I read or a movie I saw. I suppose that is to be expected. Fictional grief is a way for us to come to understand actual grief. But it seems trivial to take these words to describe an actual loss of this magnitude.
Then again, for Matt this might be utterly proper. Our friendship grew in the pop culture. We had mutual friends back in college and we ended up running in the same social circles. It was only later that I came to realize what a comic book geek he was. A number of my friends had taken up the hobby at some point, but most of them had outgrown it.
But not Matt.
And so we found ourselves spending more and more time together talking about comics and movies and TV. In science, a culture is substratum where things can grow. In this weird popular culture Matt and I lived in, our friendship grew.
Everything I could say about Matt seems too simple. An adjective is too flat to encapsulate the depths of a life. And I lack the skill to add all the layers and dimensions of his person so that you could know him.
But above all, Matt was kind. That isn't to say that he was weak or passive. I once saw him almost get into a fist fight at a movie theater over saving seats for his friends. But he was always very others-centered. Every single memory I have of him is one where he is smiling. He was the kind of person who would drop everything if a friend asked for help. He kindness was such that I would sometimes see others take advantage of his generosity of spirit. Matt was no dummy. He knew when people did not appreciate the things he did for them.
But Matt did them anyway. Because Matt was kind.
Over the decades that I've known him, we must have had hundreds of conversations. And yet I struggle to remember what was said. I suppose the content of the conversation is not as important as the person to whom you are conversing. Like me, Matt was a teacher. When it was summer, he would drive up to my house each Wednesday afternoon and we would go up to my local comic book show and then out to lunch. All the while we would fill the time talk of JRR Tolkien vs. George RR Martin or if could Darkseid defeat Thanos. Even after Matt got sick, we tried to keep the tradition when we could.
There are five conversations that I can remember with clarity.
Once we were asked which superhero we would like to be. Normally, people immediately think of what super powers they would like to have. But Matt and I knew these characters like old friends. Some of the obvious ones like Batman or Spider-Man we said no to because of the tragic loss at the heart of their stories. Others like Superman we also said no to because of the weight of the responsibility. But we each individually concluded that we would want to be Wally West. Of all the heroes to take the mantle of the Flash, he did so not out of a tragedy but out of a desire to do what was right. And Wally lived as normal a life as a hero can get with a wife and children. Both Matt and I saw that there is something so precious in an ordinary life. He always wanted someone he could share a life with and take care of.
Because Matt was kind.
The second was one he had with my wife and I. We had people over the house one evening. As people began to head home, he lingered afterwards. He then sat down with us because he need to talk about some things going on in his life. I won't divulge here what private struggles he was having, but I remember this because it was at this point I think I began to understand just how important we had become to each other and how much we had started to rely on on another. And just like my wife and I were there for him, he was always there for us.
Because Matt was kind.
The third conversation is one that I had right before the premiere of a film I had spent the past few months producing. The night of the premiere also coincided with the premiere of a new Godzilla movie in theaters. And Matt being the loyal person that he was decided to go and see Godzilla instead of my movie. When I asked him why, he said, "You have to understand: I've known Godzilla a lot longer than you." Years later I got my revenge when I gave my best man toast and shared this story with all his friends and family at his wedding. But Matt smiled as I roasted him. In fact, even though I was poking fun at him a little, he seemed to enjoy the fact that I remembered his words from all those years ago.
Because Matt was kind.
The fourth conversation was when I was sitting my car in the parking lot of my school. It was a dark January evening and the snow was falling and bitter. I got to my car and Matt called me. I thought he wanted to talk about something from his wedding and honeymoon just a few short weeks before. Instead he told me that he was diagnosed with stage-4 cancer. In that moment I was filled with an uncomfortable rage at the unfairness of what was happening. No one deserves cancer, but especially someone like Matt.
Because Matt was kind.
The final conversation was the last one I had with him alone. Less than a week ago, I stopped by his house. I didn't think he would be awake. He had been getting weaker and weaker. But when his wife let me in, he was there lying on the couch. Gone was the smile that until now had never left his face. Both of us understood that this would probably be the last time the two of us would have together like this. I sat down next to him and held his hand. I will keep our words private and not share them with you here. But we said what we needed to say. I don't know that I ever cried in front of him, but no matter how hard I tried, the tears would run down my face. One of the sad burdens of dying is that when people come and visit, the sick person often has to comfort the visitor. I don't know how long we sat there together, but Matt saw my tears and heard the heartbreak in my voice. He saw that I had a small gift for him in my hand. So to cheer me up, Matt snapped his head up. And that smile that was so central to who he was came back and he lit up the room and he said, "So, what'd you get me?!?" Even though he was the one dying, he took our last moments to make sure that I would feel better.
Because Matt was kind.
Sitting here now, I can feel the wrenching in my chest and the warm tears down my cheek. I remind myself that the pain I feel now is a remembrance of the love I have. Looking back on what I have written, I can see what a poor job I have done of sharing Matt with you. Mostly all I've done is describe how Matt affected me and how he made me feel. But this time is not about me, it's about him. And yet all I can think about is how much I am going to miss my friend.
The most important people in your life make your heart grow because they become a part of it. And when they leave, they take that piece of your heart with them.
But part of me rejoices for Matt. His last few years were so difficult. He carried his cross without complaint and fought on more bravely than I ever could. But the wound never fully healed. As I said at the beginning, all of my images to express my grief are tied up in the stories Matt and I loved. And here it is no different. I image us at the Gray Havens and he is about to board his ship into the West for the Undying Lands. We don't want to say our goodbyes but white shores are calling. And before he steps on board, he turns to us and smiles. He lets us know that he is going to a far green country under a swift sunrise. He is laying down the pain of this life and He is going into the arms of the Father.
If, by God's mercy, I am to one day enter the Kingdom of Heaven, I know that my friend will be waiting for me. And despite all the ways I ever let him down or failed at being a good friend to him, he will welcome me with open arms.
Because Matt is kind.
