So I came home, to Stevens Point, for a couple of days because Kara has fall break, and I just need a break. Unfortunately, Mom is planning to make me do some serious heavy lifting, and emotional laboring, by cleaning out my room, and all my shelves in the basement. Now that might not seem like such a big deal, but I just happen to be one of the most sentimental people I know, and I'm not exaggerating... I actually started to cry because she and Steve got all new glasses for the kitchen, and are throwing out the old ones. Yes, the new ones are nice, but what was wrong with the old ones?!
Besides that, she put up new mini-blinds in my room, AND she replaced my mattress with a new one... which I do not like because it is not the old one. The old one was the original mattress Mom and Dad got for me after Dad finished crafting the bed by hand... I understand that mattresses eventually get worn out, and that mattress is probably about 22 years old, but I LIKED it... it was the perfect balance of fluffy, soft, hard, and supportive... and it was familiar. I do not like change, and I know it sounds rediculous, but I feel a sadness that I was not warned the last time I was home that my mattress would be replaced. I didn't even get to relish my one last sleep on that mattress!
Like my mattress, sometimes things, or people, you think will always be present in your life, are taken from you without any warning. I wish it weren't so, but that's part of living in a sinful world. Sometimes you don't even notice the change, and sometimes it overwhelms you... like when I was 17, and my life-long best friend, Matthew, died.
Matthew was a kindred spirit, if ever there was one. We got in to so much mischief, and so many arguments, but we were always back to being best friends before the play date was over. Even after my family moved away when Matthew and I were seven. Kids make friends fast, and most people would have predicted we grow apart, but we didn't. We both grew up, and yes, we changed, but we remained close. We'd write letters back and forth, even when we were older and it wasn't considered so cool, and talk on the phone for hours on weekends. Though three hours apart, we listened to the same radio station, and every once in awhile, when a song that reminded me of Matthew came on, I'd remember that he might be listening and think it was pretty cool.
Aside from that, we went on an annual bike trip with our mothers (not the ride around the block kind either.) and had a quirky traditional of sending each other birthday cards themed around bodily functions (we were born a week apart.) I've often wondered how I might have acted differently if I knew, that summer between our sophomore and junior years of high school, when we said good-bye to each other at the end of our annual vacation, that the next time I would see him would be at his funeral.
I cannot even begin to explain all the ways Matthew's death has changed my life. Everytime I come to a milestone moment, I cannot help thinking he never got to experience high school graduation, college graduation... Where would he have chosen to go to school? What would he have chosen for a major? Would he be married? You just never expect that the little boy you played with in the sandbox will not always be there, all young and innocent.
I remember getting a call from Matthew's mom, several months after he had past away. She had been cleaning up some things in his room, and found a large envelope in one of his dresser drawers. When she opened it up, it was full of letters and cards that I had sent him over the years. He'd saved them all.
I'm reminded of memories like these whenever my Mom decides it's time for me to weed out some of my sentimental treasures. So many things hold meaning for me that it takes so long to decide which ones are the most important to keep. Most of my Matthew items have been safely stowed away in a box... except for the stuffed cat he bought for me with his own money when we were eight. It cost him $.25 at a rummage sale, but to me it will always be priceless.
I started cleaning out my room again yesterday evening, and found several cards I'd been saving. As I flipped through them, reminiscing, I came across one with a bodily function theme. I opened it, with a lump in my throat, and read the words: "Hope your birthday's a gas! Happy birthday, Kate! -Matt". It put a temporary lull in my cleaning until I showed my find to my mom. She got tears in her eyes when she read it, then turned to me and said softly, with a senitmental smile, "You know, Kate. He's probably have a good laugh over this up in heaven."
I'm sure he was, because that's Matthew. Even after so many things have changed in my life, I know one thing will never change... God's everlasting love and forgiveness. He gave His Son for me, and for Matthew, and because of that I know that, while our life-long friendship may have been interrupted here on earth, it is sure to continue in Heaven.
