Matty G
I have an entry I wrote a year ago, about when Matt went missing, and the pall that settled over our house as we waited for him to contact us in the tense, following days, the helplessness that sent us scouring Google maps of Northwestern Canada, my husband replaying every word from their most recent conversation, looking for meaning and import. And then three days later, the dark gray, rainy late afternoon when the Skype rang through, MATTY GEE, it said, and the line connected, but no sound from him, and I was flooded with relief, saying, "Hang on, Matty, we love you so much, where are you? We were so worried! Hang in there, Matt, we love you so much, where are you?" Nothing but silence. I thought he might be reaching out to us--everyone said J would be the one Matt called. But when the Skype line went dead and rang back again a few minutes later, it had not been Matt, but Jenny, calling to tell us through tears that Matt had been found.
I remember the cluster of my three kids, one of them sick with pneumonia, huddled and hacking around me as I crumpled into a chair. I remember throwing the door open to the freezing November rain, so different from our cozy, autumn home, and walking out into it, numbly calling J at work and somehow choking out that his best friend had taken his own life.
I didn't post the entry then, because it was littered with grief and raw emotion. So many things go through your head when you lose a dear friend to psychotic depression and suicide. Out of respect for Jenny and Si and Matt's parents, I shelved that entry privately. I packed a roll-on suitcase with black clothes and my passport, in case we were going right to Canada, and I flew on to the next three stops on my book tour. Perhaps it was better this way, for me to have the distraction of work and J the hustle and bustle of caring for the kids back home while we processed this unthinkable event. But on quiet times, on long drives in rental cars through the flatness of the Midwest, I bawled. I spent an entire day in bed at a hotel in Michigan, weeping with relief when Matt's brother Simon opened up his Facebook page for us all to share pictures and words and our memories, our shock, and our sadness.
A year has passed, and I want to write about Matt in a different way, about who he was to us when he was here, a celebration of his life. My husband has had a lot of friends in the sixteen plus years I have known him. Matt has been with us from the beginning, the old days in Cayman, from the first year we were dating--J met Matt windsurfing out at Morgan's Harbor. He introduced us on a fateful night at the Cave with drinks and magnetic poetry that we laughed about for years to come. But there was something else I noticed when we spent time with G. Who J was around Matty made me sit up and take notice. Everyone has different dynamics with different friends, roles they play, schticks they act out. When J was with Matty, he was the most recognizable as the man he was with me. Playful, funny, a lover of nature, respectful, quietly honorable, open and honest. Matty and I both secretly loved J's outrageousness, his outspoken nature, so different from Matt's quiet ways and what my mother-in-law called my 'benevolence and courtesy'. I can't tell you how many sideways glances Matty G and I shared privately over the years, the subtle South African eye-roll as we nudged each other and quietly smirked.
South Sound--Matty G busts a sail
When we got engaged in Hawaii, G was there. When we got married, J spared Matt the agony of the Best Man Speech, but he traveled all the way from the other side of the world to stand up and celebrate with us.
four Cayman friends at the Victor Cafe
this is that G-grin I was talking about. I'm sure my new husband was saying something adorably irreverent and it tickled Matt
Leaving Cayman meant our friendship would become based on visits and Skype, on shared trips to exotic locations. We fell in love with Jenny the first time we met her, bar-bequing at the South Sound place in her bikini and sneakers while Matt showed off the renovations.
Matt and Jenny at Drifters
J had many big-brotherly conversations over the years with Matt about marrying Jenny, about hurrying up and catching up to us as we added kid after kid to our brood, our own little surf team, mini Air & Style. Where were the sweet little Matty G and Jenny gingers?
All of these things should have happened--us flying to stand up with you at YOUR wedding, table tennis tournaments, then more babies and dogs and the continuation of our friendship, carefully planned trips to the ocean to worship the waves that formed the foundation of your friendship..
Matty G meets Hayden, Cayman 2001
After a fun evening of "Throw the ball down the stairs and watch Uncle Matty fetch" South Sound, 2005
G and Jenny visit PA 2006
The last conversation I had with Matt was about the four of us making clandestine plans for a catamaran trip through St. Vincent and the Grenadines, a surprise for J's birthday. He said with a smile in his voice, "I like the way you think, C." It would have been sweet.
Team Air and Style, AC 2000
G-roller, I miss your friendship, the brother you were to my husband, your sneaky smile, your quiet honorable nature, your humor and your genuine goodness. I wish you peace, sweet rides and epic seshes.
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Matt Grace: Jun 19, 1975 - Nov 3, 2010
Thinking of Jenny, Simon and the Grace family, and all of us who were fortunate enough to call Matt our friend