sunday night.
2:00am.
for the first time,
just saw some photos of
liz
posted to flickr by anya
and i lost my shit.
photos of
liz
(almost all taken by me)
have brought me
lots of comfort
over the past few weeks,
but these were different.
these photos were taken
by someone else
during happy times
that i wasn’t a part of…
her bachelorette party
and
various girls-only weekends.
all of a sudden
now i think i know what
it’s like
to look at this from
a strangers perspective
and it’s awful.
i found myself
thinking the
same things everyone
else has said,
“what a beautful woman”
“so full of life”
“can’t believe she’s gone”
holy shit i miss
liz
so much right now.
sunday started off much better
than it ended.
a day full of
outdoor activity in the backyard
and visitors
step, jeff & christine
brought lunch.
adam & ivette,
brought more gifts.
aislinn
brought lemonade.
haley
brought dinner.
bob & anna
brought laughter.
everyone held madeline
(she’s getting spoiled by all these visitors).
i gave madeline
another bath.
(it’s getting easier).
soon i think she’ll
be moving into the
next biggest diaper size
and into some bigger clothes.
(she’s getting awfully big).
another week ends
and another begins.
let’s hope things aren’t
as bad as they’ve
been during the past 5.
(things can’t get any worse, can they?).
45 Comments
I am so sorry you had a rough evening. Hopefully today will be better for you.
After my mom died last April, one of her friends mailed me some photos that they had used when they held a memorial service for her college friends in WI. I remember looking through them and feeling like someone had punched me. I was looking at her for the first time through the eyes of someone else, and it just made the horribly tragic loss seem that much more horrible and tragic than it already was (like it could be worse, right?). The photos were from just a few months before she passed away, and it took my breath away how young, lively, full of life and happy she looked. It’s been only recently that I have been able peek at them again without completely losing it.
Time does heal. Things will get better. You are still in that raw stage of shock and emotion, and sadness. It’s not a fun place to be, but it does get better.
The photo of Liz is absolutely beautiful. And of course, Madeline is more gorgeous each day.
Stay strong….
Both of your ladies are beautiful.
You’re right. Things can’t get any worse…. in time, they can only get better. Take care.
You holding Miss M makes me want to smile. She is getting so big! And she is so beautiful. Just like her mama right? Then i noticed her rings on your fingers- and I wanted to cry all over again for the two of you. So I did. I pray that you will recieve comfort this week knowing that you aren’t alone. So many people love you – even those who have never met you face to face. And even if things get worse you have all of us near and far to hold you tighter and carry you a little bit farther. For sure you have a spot in our hearts forever.
A day of backyard activity….you must either not have pesky bugs or insects to ruin the time or some really great bug spray.
And…I don’t understand the 2 pictures of Liz where it appears she is as tall as landmarks and touching the tops. How was that done?
We all continue to cry with you Matt. And pray that today, Monday, will bring you moments of peace to help begin to balance the longing and missing.
You have me crying again! Hang in there, things will get easier. (I am sure you have heard that from everyone.) Liz will always be a part of your life and I don’t think you ever get over a loss like yours. You just learn to adjust. You are doing an amazing job. Madeline is such a sweetheart. P.S. Love your t-shirt.
Hang in there, Matt! As hard as it is, it’s good to remember Liz and to miss her… it’s all part of the grieving process. I can’t even imagine how difficult it must be, but your beautiful daughter will keep you both remembering Liz but also looking ahead to new stages of her growth. While there is certainly tragedy, there’s also still hope and joy and love out there – in your daughter, in your friends and family, and even in those of us who are technically strangers but have been deeply affected by your story. All of us are saying prayers for you and thinking of you often!
Hello, I am another lurker/stalker whichever you prefer and I just wanted to tell you that you can see in Liz’s eyes how beautiful her soul was and from the pictures of your daughter I see the same thing, you can tell that she is a very blessed little girl
Please take care matt, one day at a time it will become easier
Thank you for letting us into your world, your posts have brought me to tears right alone with you
-Brooke
Matt,
I found your site a while back from someone asking for prayers for you and sweet Madeline. I have been lurking since. But this weekend I couldn’t get you or Madeline out of my mind. I have read your blog for hours on end. Reading about you and Liz. I just have to tell you that I am truly sorry for your loss. I just can’t even begin to imagine what you are going through. In some odd way I feel like I know you. My heart is seriously breaking for you and your daughter. I never knew I could feel like this from just reading about someone online. The first thing I do when I turn my computer on at work is go here to check on you and her.
Anyways I just felt I had to stop and say something to you. I hope that I didn’t upset you but really just had to say something.
Know that there are lots of prayers coming to you and your family from Ohio!
Oh and I think Madeline is one of the cutest little girls ever! Thank you so much for sharing her and your thoughts!!!!
Katrina
Hi Matt, I too am a stranger but just wanted to drop you a note to let you know that you and your beautiful family are in my thoughts daily. I’m from MN and saw your story the same way most all of us did. It broke my heart into a thousand pieces. My son is about the same age as Madeline and your story hit so close to my heart. You are truly blessed to have so many wonderful people in your life to offer you a shoulder and anything else you could possibly need. I’m sorry you are going through this. Take care and know I’ll be checking in. Madeline is beautiful by the way, but you don’t need me to tell you that
Hi Matt and Maddie-
This is my first post here…I found out about this from someone who lives in your hometown. Im not really sure why I am posting. I am sure that you have gotten so many of these posts, letters, etc. And truthfully,I have no wonderful words of wisdom, no profound statements about losing a loved one, etc. I don’t even have children yet. But, I started reading your story and, I don’t know….You hear about these things happening, but you never get the personal side of it. But Im reading these, and you seem like, I dont know….like my friends and I. We listen to the same music, like the same kinds of things, etc. I look at your pistures, and if I changed the faces it could be my friends and I…And its so hard to imagine this happening to one of my friends. I guess its the same old cliche-it wont happen to ME, etc. But reading this, I realize it does happen to people like me. I don’t know, this is all coming out and sounding kinda stupid. And Im beginning to sound like one of those lurker, stalker, whatevers…I soooo don’t mean it like that…I guess I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. Liz seems great and I can see why you and everyone else love her so much. And Maddie …well, I dont need to tell you how perfect she is…Take care….~Maureen
Oh Matt
You are so incredibly strong and Madeline is the luckiest baby in the world to have you for a father.
I know it doesn’t help to hear that when all you want is to wrap Liz in your arms right now and never let go.
I’m thinking of you often and cheering for you and Miss Madeline, even though we’ve never met.
Hugs!
Hannah
It’s insane how fast they grow. I saved a size one diaper of my son’s once he outgrew them and I can’t believe he ever fit into it.
I’m sorry your Sunday ended so sadly. Kind of like an unsticky band-aid coming off – you’re totally within reason to lose your shit.
No words of wisdom here. I’m just really sorry.
Oh Matt.
There are no words. I am so so sorry. Each and every day just so sad for you and your beautiful Madeline.
The way that a loss thisprofound willc rash into a perosn, again and again . . . it’s incredibly hard. As you’ve said, it effing well sucks.
Here. Listening to you. Hoping that your tomorrow is a better day.
Sometimes you will take three steps forward, and one or two back. That’s OK.
I know it is hard not to feel alone and I am so glad you and Madeline have one another. I hope in her you can find peace and a love that forever will be that much stronger. You guys will make it but I will not try to say annoying things about things getting easier. etc….because you are right…it sucks and nothing will change that but time. You have a right to be furious at the world right now but it is good to know you have a piece of Liz right there with you in Madeline. I know it can be good to have a non stop lil one depending on you-keeps you busy but soon let someone take over and give yourself some TLC. Much love.
Life is a stunning mind-fuck.
(I didn’t have anything helpful, funny, or comforting to say today, so I thought I’d just offer up that observation.)
I hope today is a good one for you, my dear.
Yeah, it does suck, Matt. And it’s gonna suck for a long time, and then when it’s done sucking, it’s gonna suck occasionally, just because, well… just because.
And it’s too bad that no platitudes relieve any grief or sadness, or really even help in any way whatsoever.
But for those of us feeling helpless and lost as we witness this tragic (Liz’s death) yet beautiful (Madeline’s arrival and presence in your/our world), platitudes and words are all we have to offer, really.
I hope you take some comfort in the online company you’re starting to keep, however small that comfort may be.
Signed,
Angela
Another Minnesotan You Don’t Know
Oh, Matt! I don’t know what to say when you ask if things can’t get any worse!?! I can’t imagine everything that must be going through your life right now. There’s so much I want to say, yet I can’t seem to properly illustrate my thoughts. Just know that you and Madeline and Liz are loved and supported by so many. Continue to draw comfort and strength from those around you. Cry. Cherish Liz and all your wonderful memories together.
I have spent a bit of time reading your blog and I can’t tell you how sorry I am. It’s so strange to me. While you were going through this tragedy, I had delivered my twin boys too early (at 21 weeks) and they had died, just 10 days before. I couldn’t understand how the world didn’t stop at that time, but of course it didn’t. I even remember thinking “I’ll bet people are having tragedies all over the world, but I can’t feel them because of my own pain.” Here is a terrible example of what I meant.
I keep a diary on open diary under my username that I write about my boys and post pictures of them. Your loss is so uniquely different – there are ways that I envy you (yes, does that make sense? I wanted a child so badly) and there are ways that I grieve for you so deeply, it feels worse than losing my boys (I still have my spouse, of course, even though we are alone). There are no words adequate, there is no person out there who hasn’t lost precisely what you lost who can understand. You have an amazing daughter, but she is without her mother. What a stunning paradox!
You have madeline, but she’s not your partner – not in that way. She needs care and can’t understand when you are stricken. I had the advantage in that I could take to my bed when my boys died and my husband took care of every bill and made sure I ate something. Had I had my sons but not him…? I can’t even imagine. No one can but someone who has been there.
The only similarity that I have is that I’ve suffered an amazingly terrible loss, as you have, but I don’t pretend that there is any more similarity than that. It’s not the same, but I feel for you so deeply and I’m so sorry you’ve lost a beautiful person who gave you a beautiful child.
Since you seem to love photographs so much, if you ever get a chance to go to open diary, I have a picture posted on my front page of my two boys in black and white. They look beautiful.
Peace be with you.
thinking of you today – LOVE the pixs.
A link to your story was posted on a mommie networking group I belong to. You have a beautiful daughter. Our family will continue to pray that you have stregnth and peace. You take amazing photographs.
Matt, I have been checking on you ever since I read about you in the Star Tribune. I too like everyone else think you are an amazing person going through a very hard time.
Please check out my neighbor’s website http://www.shawnsilvera.org she has a journal on there and I think you would be amazed by her writing. She also wrote a book about the grieving process due to come out Jan. 2009.
I just wanted to share that with you.
Take care.
You have a beautiful baby!
Hi Matt,
Grief is like an ocean; you’ll be able to keep your head above water some days, and you’ll be bowled over by your loss on others. I wish there were magic words to make this easier, but the fucked up thing is that only time will make your loss less raw.
Our home is always open to you if you feel the need to get out of LA for a while. I can’t help your heart, but I can definitely fill your stomach.
xxxxxxx,
j.
I just found your blog and could not stop reading. My heart literally aches for you and your daughter. I am a Mother of 2 girls (my baby shares your daughter’s name). Looking at you in all the pictures, reading about how you are coping with the loss of your wife and life with a newborn at the same time, I am in awe. Your wife is very proud of you, I am sure of that. Madeline is beautiful, and so lucky to have you as her Father.
Matt……
Again, words fail me in the face of your grief. Again I find myself wishing there were something magical I could do or say to help, even if only a little. I’m just so damn sorry. We’re all still here, still listening, still crying along with you. The amount of love that floods your “Comments” section daily never ceases to amaze me. I read and look forward to them almost as eagerly as I look forward to updates on you and Madeline. They give me so much hope in the boundless capacity of human kindness and compassion… and reassure me that even when you’re feeling most broken, you’re never truly alone.
Even as one of many strangers to you, I think of you—and Maddy—and Liz—every day. Like everyone else here who sends their love in the form of these little messages and words of support, I just keep hoping for a time when it will start to get easier for you. It will come. It will be excruciatingly slow, and unfortunately punctuated with many moments of quiet (and not so quiet) heartbreak, but eventually it will come. We will wait with you, as long as you’ll allow us to. We’ll hold your virtual hand and give you virtual hugs and stay up late with you… and we’ll keep saying “fuck” right along with you, too.
Just see if we don’t.
That being said, I do have a few points on the slightly brighter side:
1) Honestly, your daughter really IS getting more adorable every day.
2) Each new photo you post of Liz is more beautiful than the last.
3) I cannot even tell you how much I LOVE your “A lot of art is boring” t-shirt.
4) You’re doing an incredible job.
Here’s hoping this week brings you more laughter than tears… or at least begins to tip the scales a little the other way. Stay strong, Matt. We’re all with you.
I too am thinking about you and your beautiful baby. I hate to say that I’m kind of addicted to your site. Sounds weird, I know. I even woke up this morning at 3 A.M. to feed my own baby girl and wondered if you were feeding yours. Know that you’re in my thoughts and prayers, and things will get better. Love from Texas.
I am thinking of your family right now in this difficult time. I lost my mother when I was just a baby also. I am now 30 years old and I still think of her each day. Praying for you and your sweet Madeline:)
http://www.newspring.cc/Default.aspx
I can only send you hugs, I have no words. Sounds cheeky, but one day at a time; one hour at a time; one minute at a time….
I’m checking in with you every day. You are not alone.
Hi Matt
What great pictures. Both of your “girls” are gorgeous. I am glad that you have such great friends that are all helping you. All of the friends that you have gained on your blog are awesome, too. I wish that I would have done something like this when I was so overwhelmed with grief. Before, during and after my husband’s death I kept a paper journal of my thoughts and feelings. I wrote him a letter every night telling him how much I missed him. You are doing such a good thing for not only yourself but for all of us that read your comments every day. There is no right or wrong way to grieve, but by sharing your pain with us you are healing a little bit every day and we are gaining insight on how to be grateful for every minute on earth that we have. You and Madeline are in my thoughts and prayers everyday. take care, matt
“Here come those tears again….” Jackson Browne
I don’t know you but seeing the photo of you holding Madeline and seeing Liz’s rings on your pinky bring tears to my eyes.
Yet I am glad for you that you can wear them as a way of keeping Liz close.
Prayers continue.
I was wondering if you would mind if I sent you a package in the mail?
It was something I picked up extra for one of those rainy days.
Matt,
Yet another stranger from Minnesota. I left the Bloomington Target tonight crying tonight because I couldn’t handle seeing all the Mother’s Day cards. (My grandma died a few weeks ago and I’m still struggling with it.) Anyway, as I left Target all sniffly and red-eyed and sad, my thoughts turned to you and your little family, as they so often do these days. I am just so sad for you. It’s so unfair that you lost the love of your life, and Madeline her mother. I hope that you know that you are an inspiration…and that your little girl is so blessed and lucky to have you as her father. Even though she won’t get to know her mother in person, Madeline will get to know Liz, through your eloquent stories and your openness and your love for Liz and her. And eventually, someday, it will get better. Prayers and good thoughts from a stranger in Minnesota.
I am so glad Madeline will know Liz through this blog. I can’t think of anything that might mean more to a child. Keep on keeping on. I see how hard it is. We are with you. All of us.
elipie@earthlink.net
It all just sucks over and over again doesn’t it? I went to my son’s FFA banquet tonight and cried (which really goes over well with a 16 year old in public) thinking about how proud Jon would have been of him.
Get through tonight and wake-up tomorrow
I cry daily for Liz and what she’s missing. I read other people’s comments and know that everything that could be said to console you probably has been said, but it all still sucks in the end. So know that another person has been thinking of you since she got up a week ago Sunday, for her daughter’s first birthday, and read the article about you before said sweet daughter woke up. I’ve kept you in my heart throughout each day since then. Kissing my daughter (for Liz). I have so much I want to tell you, but it doesn’t seem right to leave those words here. I’m thinking of you and your sweet baby.
Your daily blogging makes me cry often and also laugh sometimes wondering about funny things, like: has he had that moment of “what smells” then to realize it’s the milk stuck in her neck folds? Does he know to not cut the fabric tags off of all of her toys because babies many times love those more than the actual toys?
Matt,
In January of 05, my husband died in a sudden accident when our (first/only) daughter was 3 months old. With the exception of the DVR issues (we never took the 30 seconds needed to figure the damn thing out) I can relate to pretty much everything, crying in the shower, the stroller / shopping cart conundrum, finding handwritten notes, etc. I hated the quiet the most. I cannot express how sorry I am for your loss.
Laura
My heart goes out to you, Matt.
Dear Matt,
Today I found your web-site, by accident I think. Until today I had not even heard of you and your wonderful Madeline and your sweet Liz. I can’t explain why I have sat here for most of the evening reading all your posts. I’m not even sure why I even read the first sentence. I do not believe in accidents on second thought. Most of the night while I have been reading I have done so with a tissue to my eyes, trying to clear my vision enough to read. I don’t know what your spiritual beliefs are and I won’t burden you with mine but suffice it to say that I believe we are all connected in some strange and wonderful way. I also believe that there is no real and permanent separation from those we love. So, I did burden you a little with mine. I will continue to read your blog because you and little Madeline have touched my heart and soul. I will visualize you and Madeline In the strong hands of the creator and I pray you find peace and comfort there.
Hi Matt,
Yes, it’s very strange to see new photos you didn’t know about. It’s a new kick in the gut, just when you thought you had this whole new, awful routine down, when you thought you knew what to expect. My personal photos of my dead husband are fine, a comfort, but seeing new ones–or seeing ones of him at his parents’ house when I go there to visit–are so much harder. You’ll still get this odd reaction from time to time, long into the future. But it does become a comfort too, to know that the sadness means you still love and remember Liz, and that you can still form new memories of her, even long after she’s been gone. I’m getting flashbacks again by following your harsh, new journey down this path; so much of that first year after my husband died is a fog to me, but the horror and tragedy of it is reflected back to me again by reading your words. And it’s okay; it helps me to remember and acknowledge just what I have survived and how far I’ve come–even when it’s hard to be aware of it most days. And I won’t lie to you, Matt–it’s going to get worse before it gets better. It can always get worse, and it probably will. I’m not telling you this to depress you, so much as to tell you you’re not crazy when it happens. You’re numb and in shock still, and it’ll get much, much worse over time before you start to feel better for longer periods of time. And I’m so sorry, truly, if hearing this makes you want to hit something (or me =)). I know you said you read at least the one post on my blog about triggers (http://crashcoursewidow.blogspot.com/2008/04/so-how-long-does-it-really-take.html); it’s hard to absorb a lot of information so early in grief and you have a lot of tunnel vision/reading, but I hope one takeaway from that post is that it will get worse before it gets better. I hope and pray that you might be one of the “lucky” ones (can I gag on that term, though?) that the first year is truly the worst. It wasn’t for me, although it certainly was the most tumultuous and intense. But it does get better–I will agree with that. It does get easier. It just takes a long time.
Hang in there, my friend, and take it one moment, one breath at a time. Be gentle with yourself. And for the five-thousandth time, I am so very, very sorry that you’re having to live through this, and most especially without your precious Liz. Hold your little girl extra tight, and marvel that such a beautiful piece of Liz has been left with you. Our baby girl was my blessing, my source of peace and strength–one of the only ones–when Charley died, so I do know what it’s like. My thoughts are always with you.
Candice
wow, amazing…
my prayers are for you and your baby.
This last picture of you and Madeline is absolutely gorgeous… especially with seeing Liz’s rings on your pinky. Beautiful. I found your site yesterday through a friend’s blog and have crying tears upon tears the past 2 days as I have read through all the entries. I’ve never card quite so much for a perfect stranger before… please know that while I can’t comprehend what this is like for you that my heart does still go out to you.
Hi! Matt,
How R U ? I have finally mustered the courage to ask you how u r? I have been following your blog, emotions and experiences thru each day . I have loved the amazing pictures and all the feeling they are really conveying. It is really amazing and I love your spirit.
How is ur leg now? Wish I was in your land just to be able to be of some real help to you or extend some friendship to you and the little miracle called Madeline.
The pics of Liz have inspired a poem and I have penned these lines down, which I shall mail to you shortly. Plz accept my wishes and care with my prayers for health & strength and wishes a future filled with love, hope and care for both of you thru each coming day.