The Place He Now Calls Home
Written by: Deb Gilmore

Matthew left us on September 17,1997.

He was as bright as the morning sunshine with eyes that sparkled like the blue of the ocean. Not the part near the sand, for that is too light. And, not the middle, for that is too dark; but somewhere in between. Within his eyes, there was wisdom far beyond his years. He had a contagious smile that went from ear to ear. No matter how hard my day was or how unhappy I might be, just one smile from Matthew was all it took to totally turn my day around.

Matthew now lives in a place that some might consider elite. The gate gracing the entrance would look cold if it were not for the intricate designs softening the hardness of the metal and creating a beautiful silhoutte. A winding road leads from the front gate and back again. Majestic trees line this road, trees which create a rainbow effect with their brilliant foliage. The tranquil atmosphere reminds me of the hush observed before a prayer.

High-rise or flats are the two designs that one might choose from; both made from the finest marble or granite, complete with a personalized nameplate. The gardener keeps the lawn perfectly manicured--a rich, thick, hunter green grass trimmed down to the inch. It is the kind of lawn I like to walk through slowly, making sure my feet feel every delicious blade of velvety grass.

Matthew was selected from millions of people wanting to get in. Most must wait a lifetime before they can live here. Many people would say Matthew was lucky to get in. However, that is a matter of opinion.

Each year, on September 17th, I will remember how my dreams of watching my son grow into a man shattered into a million pieces. Each lost milestone will haunt me: starting school, his prom and graduation, getting married, and having a family of his own. Sadly, these dreams will never become reality. Matthew, at the tender age of 15 months, died from complications following a surgery to correct his heart defect. I wish he were still in my loving arms or playing on the floor with the brother he never got to meet, or waiting at our gate to welcome his daddy home from work.

My son belongs here with me--not in that new place he now calls home.

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