somethings.
no.
most things, i try
to confront
head-on.
but there are
a few that can
remain buried in
time, not confronted.
but.
sometimes, the choice
is not mine.
like here.
in this place.
i chose to come
here, but…
i tried to avoid
some of it.
but.
four e-mails.
four responses.
“no vacancies.”
a fifth.
“confirmed.”
from the airport
through the narrow streets,
to a place
i could find
with my eyes
shut tight…
when they
gave us one bed,
and it wasn’t
clear to
them why we
needed two,
i simply told
them that one
wouldn’t work.
and i had a feeling.
yes.
it was a feeling,
but it was
intense
and i knew it then.
so we followed
the guy
in the dark green
uniform up the stairs.
and when
he turned left, i knew
what was
going to happen.
there.
on the right,
there it was.
as i stood
in the doorway,
i heard those
pigeons that
kept us up all
night, every night
for nearly two weeks.
i saw the balcony
that looked
liked it would
collapse under
the immense weight,
of us,
(figurative).
and i smelled
the musty smell of
the bathroom, the joints
between the blue tiles
covered in mildew.
and i saw
the look
on your face,
the one that said,
“what the fuck have you gotten me into this time?”
but none
of that happened.
not now.
not today.
it happened
before, yes, in 2004.
in room 403.
yeah.
the exact same
fucking room
where your
child now sleeps…
and i’ve learned again
today that
avoidance is the
thing that brings the
past to the
present, brings the
happy moments
face-to-face with
the last 19 months.
and i’m once
again reminded,
that avoidance is
no way
to deal with this.
so.
after more than
one beer,
and a few moments
of clarity,
and a lot
of writing,
i’m on my way back.
back to that place.
and i’ll put
the key in
the hole,
and you.
you won’t be
be there.
but i’ll feel you.
(again, figurative).
and maybe.
just maybe…
i won’t avoid,
one more thing
that i
don’t want to confront.


















Wow…when you jump into the pool you head straight for the deep end!
Lovely words. Thinking of you.
Hi Matt, thanks for sharing the painful memories as well as the happy ones. I have been reading all your posts but haven’t commented till now- thinking of you, Matt.
you are… poetry in motion.
This is a good ‘ole fashioned Matt post. I am sorry you are hurting but glad you are facing it. Your words are at their most powerful when you are hurting. peace, love and strength to you and madeline.
This just affirms to me that Liz was with you both that day. She made it happen so you could all be together.
This post ‘feels’ like you’re older posts. It’s beautiful. I hope you are well.
I was writing about the exact same thing as you did here, only in an entirely different way. Keep on writing Matt. You’re great at it and it is an important path to recovery.
You will accomplish this, because of all the people that do don’t even know you but love you.
Your words leave me speechless. I pray for peace for you.
Hey, I am from Norway and I saw you on Oprah today. I got to say I admire you for taking such good care of your dather. She is beautiful. Even though you have had a hard time you just keep on living for both …. Amazing !!!
You touched my heart, among many others….
Wish you the best in future.
Henriette
You are such an amazing writer. It is truly a special gift to be able to paint such a vivid picture and evoke such strong emotion in others with the words that you write. Bless you through this journey. I hope you find some peace, if that is possible.
Funny how frequently in grief these coincidences occur. Makes you wonder.
your words and actions continue to move me and i find myself missing liz without ever knowing her. i live each day with a little more love and a lot more gratitude. and i fill my heart with hope for you and maddy. you never cease to amaze me. sending love and hugs your way. safe travels. ~c
Matt, I’m so very sorry. It’s just not fair.
(I know, I know, how many times have your heard that already?)
Your writing is amazing. Your words are so moving.
JS @ http://www.motherlawyercrazywoman.blogspot.com
Matt, I have no words to offer today, but I have some music for you to listen to. It seems you have a pssion for music and I thought this might bring you a moment of peace (or at least a finger tapping, head bobbing minute). I came across an old friends new band and it brought me that moment last week when our dog died unexpectedly when he was hit by a car right in front of us (me and my kids). Here’s the site http://www.surprisememrdavis.com/
Keep on keeping on!
Wow – usually I am just a lurker but have to say that you are amazing. Maddie is very lucky to have you and I wish you strength, courage and lots of love to help you through this journey we call life!
I’m sorry for your pain. I understand about avoidance. I wish I too could avoid the process of my mother dying and taking care of all that needs to be taken care of. I wish I could avoid that during this time my husband and I have been fighting daily since we brought our son home. PPD? Anxiety? Stress? Financial worry? Realizing we’re just not made for each other? Not sure. I wish I could avoid that I wake up daily with anxiety and worry and wondering on what choices to make for my son that are the 100% right choices.
I hate all of this and I wish I could avoid it. I get it and I’m sorry.
This part punched me right in the heart:
yeah.
the exact same
fucking room
where your
child now sleeps…
I can’t imagine, Matt. I won’t even try. It hurts too bad. You are awesome and strong and brave and all of those other words one would use to explain you. You really keep Liz’s spirit alive. Maddy will know her Mother, not in the way that she should, granted, but she’ll know so much about her and these trips, these posts, these photos, these are things that Maddy will cherish FOREVER.