Matt suffered, but he never succumbed to despair, and his faith that his illness had a meaning stayed with him to his final breaths. I was mulling, as one tends to do at a wake, on the lessons that Matt s death, or any death, might have for me. Going to view the deceased sometimes feels like visiting a stranger, and that was the case with Matt, though I ve known him since he was ten. Even his black denim jacket. But it wasn t him, if you know what I mean.
Death is very real.
The world is wilder than that in all directions, more dangerous more extravagant and bright. It s a rare day I live with such awareness or passion, though my heart tells me that I could. He recognized life s frailty and his dependence on God. And once he did that, he stopped slapping at mosquitoes and started taking in the long view. Matt never became holy or otherworldly.