questions.
they came today,
a torrent of them,
an attempt to
make sense of
your little world,
combining the things
we talk about
every day in an
(almost)
4 year
old’s level of comprehension.
while digging your
spoon into a bowl of
(what i learned from grandpa tom g. a few nights ago)
was your mom’s
favorite cereal.
“daddy, why did mommy want to buy this house?”
i was surprised. this
is not a question
you’ve asked before.
“she wanted you to have a yard to play in and she loved all of the trees and plants. especially the lemon and grapefruit trees.”
“oh. i love you, daddy. can i have some orange juice, please?”
then you asked
a bunch
of questions about
how grandmas can
also be moms.
then in the car…
“daddy, what did you and mommy do for fun?”
again, not a question
i’ve heard from
you before.
i told you about
our travels, our nights
with friends, everything
i could think
of before the next
question interrupted me…
“why was my mommy in the hospital?”
i told you
why she
was there, and how
her only care
in the world was
getting you
out safely.
as much as the
previous questions
took me by surprise,
the next one took
the wind out of me.
“daddy, did you hold my mommy’s hand when she died?”
fuck.
as i tried to
breath and to
figure out how
to answer that one
(how do i explain to you at this point in your life that i was rushed out of the room so the doctors and nurses could work on you mom, and that it was impossible for me to hold her hand until after she had already died?).
i started bawling,
impossible to hide
my tears from you.
i did my best
to explain it to you,
but what i said
will never take
away what happened that day.
i looked in
my mirror to see
you reaching for me.
i reached back for
you, my hand now
in yours,
you rubbing my hand
the way i rubbed your
mom’s
that day
(and many before it).
“daddy, i love you.”
you knew i
needed that.
“i love you too, maddy.”
sometimes i forget
how mature you are,
and how you understand
and comprehend more
than i think you do.
“you know, you can ask me anything about your mommy, and you can talk about her anytime, right?”
“yeah. daddy. i know.”
and as i worried
about how i’d fucked up
your day by crying
you said,
“daddy. oliver is not on my imagination team anymore.”
and i just laughed.
“it’s not funny, daddy!”
you yelled back at me.
and no, it’s not,
but it was.
and i’m sorry i didn’t
ask why he was
no longer on your team,
or what the fuck
an imagination team
actually is.


















Matt,
I just want to tell you how sorry and disappointed I am that some individuals say such insensitive things to you. Your love for Liz is evident in this blog, in your book, in the foundation that carries her name, and in the way you care for the daughter you had together. Anyone who thinks that allowing yourself to be a partner again is equal to not having wanted the life you planned with Liz or no longer mourning her is simply unaware of the complexities of a loss and love so enormous as what you have with Liz.
There’s a famous quote by Elisabeth Kubler Ross that says the most beautiful, compassionate, sensitive people are those who have known loss and found their way out of the depths. Nothing makes the truth of that statement more clear than comparing the kindness you’ve shown others while in pain with the nastiness shown here from people who have never known such pain.
You’re a beautiful person. Maddy will be proud to call you her father when she understands more. Liz was clearly proud to call you her husband. And I’m willing to bet your level of empathy and compassion is one of the reasons Brooke is proud to call you her partner. I’m sure you’ve heard it all these past 4 years and have learned to brush it off, but I just felt bad for you reading these and wanted to comment. I hope you always feel the love and pride your wife has for you, especially this month. That exists even in death.
Matt, this post killed me. You lost Liz in a way beyond your imagination, but you were holding her and I promise she felt that. Imagine if you hadn’t been there, if you’d left the hospital for a little bit that day. Feeling like you’re going to faint is really scary – she’d have been wishing you were standing next to her. You should’ve both been 80 and should’ve had those last five minutes, but if it had to be this way, at least she could know you were standing next to her and holding onto her. You made her feel safe. This made me cry. You and your daughter are just such loving people…It’s going to sound so pathetic, but I don’t think there’s one person who would care that much if I died, you know? I don’t think anyone would be wishing they had held my hand or writing in my memory or anything like that. I don’t have a family like yours, a loving group of people. It’s incredibly inspiring to read your words and see how much you loved your wife and how your little girl carries those same loving traits. It’s made me less of a cynic…which is tough to do.
Does Matt actually read all these comments? I know this is dated a couple months ago, but these comments are so disrespectful to Liz, I’m stunned. I cannot stand when people disrespect someone who has died. She isn’t here to speak up for herself…A stepping stone to finding true love with Brooke. She’s been replaced. She would have cared more about work than Maddy. He would’ve cheated on her(?!?!?!)..There’s so much wrong with this. I cannot imagine he feels that way about Liz, that’s the polar opposite of his book. I just can’t believe how disrespectful. I really fell in love with Liz and these break my heart for her and make me angry for her. The people saying mean things better seriously hope there isn’t more to life than what we can see, because imagine if she can read that somehow? Imagine if someone said that about you after your death? Terrible. So disrespectful. I really hope Matt doesn’t read comments, I would freak the fuck out if someone said that about my spouse, let alone someone like her. This post was so beautiful too.
it was impossible for me to hold her hand until after she had already died = instant tears. Ditto for you rubbing my hand the way i rubbed your mom’s that day (and many before it). – I am so sorry that not only did the happiest time of your lives turned into the worst time of your lives, but you had to feel so helpless throughout it. Liz knew you were there, and that you loved her, and Maddy will know it too…and thank you for sharing your life with thousands of strangers. You don’t have to do that; you could easily privatize the blog, your photos, everything, and you certainly don’t have to be as accessible and kind as you are. When someone feels the need to refer to your late wife as an “ex” or apologizes for calling her what she is, your wife (which she always will be no matter what, it isn’t a divorce) or accuses you of not having loved her as deeply and completely as you so clearly did, I’d totally expect you to just say, ‘Screw it,’ and stop sharing. But you somehow find the courage to continue sharing such intimate emotional details with a host of strangers, and that is amazing. Liz would not only be proud of her husband (ahem, notice – NOT ex-husband, her HUSBAND), but based on your shared memories of her, would probably have some choice words to those who think they know it all as well.
Keep being awesome!
You handled her questions beautifully. I believe it is good for Maddy to see you cry, for her to see that you miss her mom, too – through that, she will understand that it is okay for her to miss her mom.
This is long and I’m sorry, but reading these comments, I just have to say that I don’t think it’s about Matt dating or remarrying or whatever – God willing, he has a good 30-60 years left ahead of me. Who in their right minds would wish him a life of singledom for that long?
For me, it’s 2 things. Firstly, it’s comments like the ones on this post. It’s the assumption that by doing these things, Matt has “moved on” or “gotten over” Liz. It’s referring to Brooke as a replacement, as though Liz is replaceable. It’s the sickening fear that if they’re married, Liz’s memory will go away entirely, as he’s already inundated with those opinions when they’re just dating. People think he doesn’t love her, doesn’t think about her, or cry for her still, and yeah, I don’t even know him, so I could be completely wrong – but I don’t think I am when I say that has to be incorrect. Re-read this post and read “voice” if you doubt it. This was his high school sweetheart, his best friend, his wife, the mother of his little girl – she fucking collapsed into his arms, he stood there watching her die, powerless to do anything for her, how the fuck does someone move on from that or her?! I refuse to believe he is doing anything other than moving through life as best he can. I can only assume those who actually know him and Liz and Brooke know the truth – that it is complicated and not a storybook tale. And you know, Brooke’s blog wasn’t the problem – it was the assumption people took from it, the assumption he’s “moved on” – which not once did she say.
Secondly, it just sucks, okay? It makes me bawl thinking of Matt building his future with anyone but Liz, to think of how she doesn’t get to be apart of the memories and life he’ll have with Maddy, or the friends and family she and Matt shared. It isn’t fair that everyone gets to continue living, to have moments of happines and laughter, when she died. She was only 30, the most radiant woman I have ever seen, and I never even met her. She should be here, with them, she should have been able to grow old with her husband and watch Maddy grow up and have more kids and I feel more terribly for her than I can possibly express in words.
So, honestly, I’m terrified of him possibly getting married because I am so stuck in Liz’s perspective – I feel so unbelievably awful for her, picturing that (nothing personal at all – just sad for her), and most of all, am not looking forward to reading even more surely inaccurate assumptions people will make about his choice. People won’t want to talk about her anymore, thinking Matt is “over her.” That sucks so much.
I wish so much that people would stop saying he’s “moved on”, stop congratulating him on his “happiness” as though being with Brooke = no longer ever sad about Liz, stop using cliches like “meant to be” and “everything happens for a reason” and “rainbows after rain” (Liz would surely beg to differ), and most of all, stop referring to Liz as his ex-wife (I’ve seen that 3 times lately) or Brooke as Madeline’s mother, diminishing Liz’s role in her life and the MAJOR loss Maddy will endure forever, Brooke in her life or not; even at 4, she is obviously already beginning her own grieving process, with her sadness about not knowing Liz’s voice and questions over her mom’s death. If I, a stranger, feel this deeply for Liz, imagine the emotions that will continue to arise for the daughter she never knew outside the womb, esp. an intelligent and sensitive child like Maddy.
THAT’S what’s so upsetting, and Matt, you don’t have to post this if you don’t want to, I know it’s long and rant-y, but as someone who really connected with your wife, I’m so, so sick of reading this crap. Very few of us even know you or Brooke or knew Liz, and to put such cruel words in your mouth is just wrong.