Ten Years

Ten years. 

How could it be ten years since you died? 

How could it be 3653 days since I thought I couldn’t live one more day without you?

How could it be 87,672 hours since you took your last breath, next to me in bed while I was singing “Itsy Bitsy Spider” to Teddy?

Just yesterday.  And forever ago.

A lifetime. Teddy's lifetime. Ten years.

A decade has passed and I still remember the feeling of never being able to breathe again; of drowning in sorrow. 

I remember the last breath you took and the quiet that followed. I remember the moment I kissed you for the last time and left the bed we shared to tell our family gathered downstairs that you had heard our pleas and prayers and that you had let go.

I remember the dizziness that overtook me when I was asked to put the first bit of earth into the grave where I'd just laid the other half of my heart to rest.  Ten years out, my throat still tightens when I hear the sound of dirt on wood.

I remember holding our infant son in the days and nights that followed, wishing beyond reason that I could keep him from ever feeling the pain of this. 

At 11, Teddy is so much like you.  He has your hands, your gait, the shape of your body, the angles of your face.  We talk about you a lot. He doesn't have real memories of you--he was so young when you died--but his pain at your absence is real and deep.  I have taught him to look for signs of you, and that he will always find you when he needs you. 

At your funeral, Rabbi Corngold (z"l) said: 

"Here’s a man who adjectives were made for; the really good ones.  Living with him, working with him, being friends with him had to have been a wonderful adventure.   

Who knew where he’d turn his brilliant attention and beautiful mind to next?  But the choices were never purely cerebral, were they?  We commented on this yesterday; they always seemed to emerge from friendships and relationships.  If there was an English teacher he liked, he’d devour Victorian poetry.  If there was a riding instructor he liked from Hungary, then he’d not just travel to Hungary but learn Hungarian.  If the woman he had always been waiting for is Jewish, then he’d learn and embrace Judaism with wisdom, sincerity, and all the right questions.  When he had a child, he’d be the best dad for all the time he had, and give all the love and attention his strength would allow.

If we want to see that proof the science of genetics works, let’s just all watch what a remarkable man TEDDY will become because he has PAUL in him.  Like Paul, he is already a little man on the move; has you all so delightfully trying to keep up.  That’s the son of Paul..."

We stand at the edge of the ocean and write messages to you in the sand.  I tell Teddy as much as I can remember to fill the gaps for him.  

I tell Teddy how wholehearted and passionate you were; generous—often to a fault—making sure your friends and family were well cared for, and indulging others in their pursuits.  I tell him you were smart, hard working, funny, kind, and genuine, and that you believed that certain experiences were once-in-a-lifetime opportunities and that those should be sought out and shared. I tell him stories about your legendary appetite(in spite of your slight build); the story of you ordering a dozen eggs—and a side of bacon—at the Evergreen coffee shop near the office is a favorite.

I tell him that you were my best friend, my “bashert” and the other part of my heart.  I tell him how much loving you changed me.  It made me a better person, more capable of loving others, more understanding of myself, and stronger in the places that I once believed irreparably broken.  

I tell those who did not know you—or us—that it is you they should thank for the best of who I am now.  I wish that you could know the exceptional people who are part of our lives now.

I’ve struggled over the past ten years to honor your memory. I have let so many days slip by, trying to hold on to the hands of the clock.  There are still challenges—they are the stuff of living—but there are also great joys, laughter, friendship, love and health to celebrate.  I miss you in every moment, but it doesn't break my heart the way it once did. 

As Teddy and I look up at the stars tonight and gaze out to the horizon at the edge of the Atlantic tomorrow, we will give thanks for all you were.  We will look at photos, and I will tell Teddy about your great heart, your gentle nature, your passion for life and your infinite spirit.

"There are stars whose radiance is visible on earth though they have long been extinct. There are people whose brilliance continues to light the world though they are no longer among the living. These lights are particularly bright when the night is dark."                                                                                                                        

                                                                                                          - Hannah Senesh 

Today, as I am every day, I am grateful for the light that still shines because of Paul Charles Matthes, 5/27/56-11/26/06.