Too Young to Lose

The following story is a very extended version of what I used for my college application essay - I've added and edited over the years....

            His family and friends were gathered in the hallway of the ICU when his doctors wheeled him in his bed, back to his room from the CAT scan.  I can still hear his mom’s voice ringing in my ears on that Thanksgiving afternoon.  “He’s sleeping now and he won’t be waking up.”  Matt was brain dead. 
            It hadn’t quite sunk in when I collapsed to my knees.  I was in my parents’ arms when Matt’s dad came over, put his arms around me and said, “Thank you for loving my son.” It was my turn to say goodbye, only I couldn’t bring myself to speak those words.  I lay my head down on his pillow as tears streamed down my face.  I held Matt’s hand and watched his grandmother sitting in the corner so silently.  I just could not tell this boy I had grown to love “goodbye.”  Instead, I kissed his forehead, told him I would always love him, and was gently pulled out of the room.  I went home to wait for the phone call.
            Who would have thought five short months before that dreadful day, when I first started talking to Matt, that I would be faced with such a horrific, life changing experience?  I was in Sun Valley, Idaho vacationing with my mom and brother enjoying the mountains and hot summer air.  One night in the middle of our four week vacation I was chatting online with some friends back home.  A name popped up; someone new had contacted me.  He said his name was Matt Velez and that he had gotten mine from a mutual friend.  Our conversations continued for weeks until I returned home, and even longer when he left for New Jersey to visit his cousins. Until we met, we kept in contact through e-mail mostly.  The first time we talked on the phone was nothing short of amazing.  Two days later, on August 11, 2001, Matt showed up on my front porch, obviously excited and a bit nervous.  He came into my house and met my family.  We sat down on the couch to watch a movie (Meet the Parents, actually!); it was magical and my life was never the same again.  I fell in love with Matt and his abnormal heart, hard and fast that night, almost four years ago.
            Everyone loved Matt.  You just couldn’t help yourself.  That infectious smile and mischievous twinkle in his eyes hooked you, and then his heart and soul reeled you in.  And he always smelled so good!  That was definitely one of the first things I noticed about Matt.  He wore Nautica: Latitude, Longitude Cologne.  They say scent is the best trigger for memory; he was with me all the time because my car smelled like him for a week after he was in it.  Even the dog and cat were affected by his charm on that first visit.  Oscar was at his feet begging him to scratch his neck while Molly crawled across his shoulders and nuzzled his neck.  In unison, they were demanding his attention.  We all sat back and watched as they adored him.
            That evening was the beginning of the most incredible journey of my life.  Just two days later, at four in the morning on the phone, Matt asked me to be his girlfriend.  Naturally I said yes and from that moment on Matt and I were inseparable.  If we weren’t spending time together on the weekend, we were talking online or on the phone.  E-mails waited for me when I got home from school each day.  He used to say, “Hey sweetie...”, and ask me about my day then tell me about his.  In an e-mail on our three month anniversary, Matt wrote, “Today is the day, 3 months.  Katy I want to be with you forever.  It’s simple.  I love you, being with you, talking about you, everything about you.  You are the one thing in life I need to survive.  I really do mean this that you are the girl for me.”  A week before Thanksgiving dinner, I wrote to Matt, “Just know that I will love you forever as long as we both shall live, haha just like the wedding vows.  But seriously, you are the love of my life and all I need is you with me and I’ll be fine.”  He replied, “...I’ll be here for a while, more like forever.”  We used to tell 
each other that forever didn’t seem like long enough.  This wonderful, caring person who loved everyone and whom everyone loved in return rarely let his fears show through when it came to his health condition.
            Matt was born with a cardiovascular abnormality.  After three open-heart surgeries by the age of 10 he knew that someday he would be taken from this world because of it.  This information was second-hand from my mom.  She was talking to my uncle and cousin about Matt one afternoon.  My cousin, Michael, said that he had gone to grade school with Matt and that they really bonded back then because they both had heart conditions.  During one of our nightly conversations, while trying to get to know each other better, Matt said, “Ask me anything!”  So I took a deep breath, “Did you have surgery?”  A hush lingered on the line for a minute.  Matt responded in a concerned voice, “I wasn’t going to tell you this so soon, but since you asked, I’m not going to lie about it.”
            I didn’t say another word that night.  I cried silently as he shared his fears with me.  He talked for hours about the past eight years of his life; how he hated being kept from the sports he loved in which his natural ability shined through.  He complained about his painful fourth-grade year when he missed the first month of school because of surgery and being so ill.  Matt also talked about how he was afraid that he would die before he reached his 20’s, and yet, we talked about our future together.  We were juniors in high school and were making plans.  We talked about getting ready for college.  We even talked about getting married after we had finished school.  Even with all the information about Matt’s heart condition, I never imagined what the future held for either of us in the coming months.
            I think back on all the wonderful times we spent together and I smile.  I remember my sweet sixteenth birthday party when my friend Margaret challenged Matt to a little “one-on-one” basketball.  Matt was only 5’8” which is tiny compared to Margaret who stands tall at 6’5”.  Right away Matt refused and said, “No way!! Yeah right!”  She asked him repeatedly and he just went up to the yard and took a seat, shaking his head with a big grin on his face.
            Matt chose to spend my birthday with me instead of playing in the wiffleball championship game with his teammates.  It's amazing that his friends and family still hold a tournament every year in his name. Although he understood why, he hated that he wasn't allowed to play baseball, his “true love.” During my family party, Matt had a blast playing with my little cousins on the front porch.  They found some bungee cords in the back of my uncle’s truck and decided they wanted to tie up Matt so that he couldn’t break free.  Matt played along and pretended he was stuck to amuse my cousins.  Then of course, the boys wanted to be tied up just like Matt, so he did as they wished.  After a while, everyone went inside and Matt challenged my eight-year-old cousin Jimmy to a game of chess.  Matt thought Jimmy had no chance of winning because of his age, so he got a little bit cocky.  But Jimmy was the one calling “check-mate” after just four moves.  Needless to say, Matt was pretty embarrassed.  Another time playing with my cousins, we were all playing basketball outside at my aunt’s house.  Matt decided to show off and say that for every shot he made, he got a kiss from me.  Of course the ball went “swish” every time.
            I love Matt’s family; we had fun together going to dinner for his 17^th birthday at TJ’s Restaurant then hanging out at his house afterwards.  Then there was the homecoming game where I met all of Matt’s many friends.  I was nervous to meet everyone, but he talked about them so often that I felt like I had known them all my life. Matt talked about two friends in particular all the time.  I finally had the pleasure of meeting Mike McNeil, a disheveled, Irish smart alec and Paolo Bartolini, an Italian charmer with that look in his eye; one that seems to look directly into your soul.  Both of them are always there for their friends.  The next night at dinner before the Homecoming dance, I returned from a restroom run with the girls to find my chicken tenders stuck in my water glass.  Of course Mike did it, with a little encouragement from Matt, I’m sure.  This was the start to a wonderful friendship between Mike and me.  Needless to say, everyone had a great time that night.   Every time I hear “The Dance” by Garth Brooks, I think of Matt because we had our last dance together to that song.
            About two and a half weeks later, Matt came to my house specifically to have a private conversation with my dad.  This meant the world to me.  He told my dad how much he cared about me, that he loved me and always wanted to be with me.  I will also never forget our most memorable date, which happened to be our first real date. It began on Friday afternoon.  My mom and I picked Matt up after school.  We spent a few hours at my house.  That night we went to the Christmas parade; Saturday night we saw Monster's Inc. in the theaters and had dinner at Garfields, just the two of us.  While we were on the phone Sunday night, my brother needed to use the dial-up Internet to do some homework online.  At that time, we didn’t have two phone lines, meaning I had to get off the phone.  I was arguing with my brother and mom to stay on for just an hour longer.  But I lost the fight and had to say goodnight to Matt.  So I got into bed and listened to his voice right before I fell asleep.  It was the end of a perfect weekend, the last one we had together.
            The following afternoon on Monday, I was sitting in my desk with my head against the wall, about to fall asleep.  It was 1:00 p.m. and everyone was ready for school to let out.  We were watching a boring movie in religion class when the secretary of my school knocked on the door.  Before the teacher opened it, I felt in my gut that something was wrong.  I was told to meet my mom downstairs immediately and that the secretary couldn’t answer any questions I had.  I ran all the way down the steps and out the front door.  I sat down in the car that I saw my mom’s face, and I knew.  She turned to me and said with tears in her eyes, “It’s Matt.  He collapsed at school and his mom wants you to go to the hospital before the helicopter takes him to Morgantown.”  The most shocking thing was that Matt had an appointment in Morgantown a week before he collapsed; according to his doctor, he was healthy.
            Matt was in gym class playing basketball and was taking a break.  When he went back into the game, sudden cardiac arrest almost claimed his life.  He had the ball, started to dribble, and fell face first onto the court.  First, his pulse stopped, then his breathing.  He lost consciousness, collapsed and appeared lifeless.  Someone ran to call 911 while the coach performed CPR.  The ambulance arrived in about five minutes.  The paramedics took over and shocked Matt three times before rushing him to OVMC. My mom and I arrived shortly before my dad at the hospital and ended up in a back room with Mrs. Velez, some of her co-workers, and a box of tissues.  Once Mike and Meredith returned from seeing him, their mother took me by the hand and led me back to his room.  On the way, she explained that he was hooked up to machines and had tubes all around him.  “Katy’s here Matt and she loves you,” his mom said loudly.  I was in such a state of shock.  All I could do was cry.  I’m not sure how aware Matt was at that point.  All I know is that when I took Matt’s hand, it was limp.  Before I left, his fingers were wrapped around mine.  Things started happening and we all had to leave the room. As I was being pulled out, I told Matt that I loved him.  Shortly after, he was life flighted to Morgantown.
            Once my parents and I got home from the hospital, we packed some things and drove down to where Matt lay struggling for his life.  The days that followed were a blur of family and friends coming and going and naps in the waiting room.  Visits with Matt were a struggle, although I wanted to see him as much as possible.  The hardest part was the hours of waiting for Matt to wake up even though he was becoming more lifeless every passing minute.
            On Tuesday, some of us took a break from the waiting room and roamed the hospital.  We stopped in the gift shop to look around.  Matt’s sister bought him a stuffed ferret.  It was pretty funny since Matt had wanted a real one for a while, and even started building it a cage.  Meanwhile, his brother Mike started mimicking how Matt would have responded.  He got excited and shrieked with a high-pitched voice.  I can’t explain how good it felt to laugh for the first time in three days.  Meredith placed the ferret on Matt’s pillow once we got back upstairs.
            One thing that helped me through the week was Matt’s baby blanket.  Mrs. Velez brought it to the hospital with her to hold onto and I was keeping a picture of Matt and me from my birthday party.  I wanted the blanket and she wanted the picture, so we traded.  Weeks later, since I couldn’t keep the whole thing, Mrs. Velez cut a part of his blanket for me to keep forever.  Matt loved his blanket so much that he could not fall asleep at night without it.  Anyone who had gone through what Matt had during his lifetime deserved a little extra comfort wherever he could find it.  Holding onto a favorite baby blanket didn’t seem too much to ask.  But as any 17-year-old boy would be, Matt was exceptionally embarrassed about it in front of his friends.  On laundry day, Mrs. Velez left the blanket on the living room couch when Matt had a surprise visit from some friends.  Needless to say, Matt was on the couch with the blanket behind his back until his friends were gone.
            The next day, Wednesday evening, about 20 of Matt’s closest friends drove an hour to show their support to his family and to spend time with him.  More people tried to get to Morgantown, but the police got word, and stopped anyone else from going.  Before everyone came, I remember sitting out in the lobby on the floor, just a few feet from Matt’s room, listening to music and just letting myself cry.  I had spent so much time trying to control my emotions but I had to let it go.  Once Matt’s friends arrived all at once, I went straight to Paolo and stuck by him the entire night.  Mrs. Velez brought boxes full of pictures for friends to share and remember funny stories about Matt.  It was a relief to lighten the mood for a while.  A couple people at a time went back into his room, all of which were in shock, just as I was when I heard the news.  I went back a few times with different people and by myself.  Although it was difficult for her, Mrs. Velez let me use some of her visit time with her son because she knew Matt would have wanted it.  After everyone had their brief visit with Matt, we all went down to the hospital chapel with mine and Matt’s parents and grandparents.
            Everyone was standing around in a big circle holding hands.  I was in between Paolo and Mere C. After we shared stories and prayed that he would come back to us, completely unexpected to me, my dad spoke.  “I have something to say about Matt.  You all know Matt the son, the grandson, the brother, friend, boyfriend, and classmate.  I have the privilege of knowing Matt the man.”  He talked about how he took a long walk that day and was frustrated with God.  He said it was the first time he cried in a long, long time.  My head was on Paolo’s shoulder while I just let the tears stream down my face.  Everyone was crying and responded in his or her own way.  But I noticed that one guy in particular, this running back on the football team Mike DeSantis, was sobbing.  Before this moment, he had shown no sad emotion toward his friend who was dying.  He tried so hard to joke it up to try to cover his pain.  But he lost it and let it all go once my dad spoke.  He was squeezing my mom’s hand and shaking as the tears wracked his body.  Once we all left the chapel, he apologized to my mom for the pain he might have caused her, and all of the guys shook my dad’s hand for his wonderful speech.  We wiped our tears and shared long hugs before Matt’s friends went back to Wheeling.  All of these memories bring me back to that Thanksgiving Day.
            Two days later, as we do each year on that Saturday, my family gathered for a belated Thanksgiving dinner at my aunt’s house.  Matt was to be there to meet the rest of my family, especially my three-month-old nephew, Korben; he loved babies and kids and wanted to be a teacher.  Shortly before dinner, the phone call came saying that Matt was gone.  After my cousin said the prayer and gave thanks for Matt, I removed his place card from the plate next to me and tried to eat something.  I could only eat two bites of my turkey.  All I remember is sitting on the couch, then hours later my mom was waking me up.  Soon enough we were at church for my nephew’s baptism.  I look back on that christening with bittersweet memories.  God was blessing the newest member of our family just hours after calling my angel home to Him.
            The day after Matt died I was in my room picking out music to be played at the funeral home.  My mom was lying on my bed in tears the whole day, but because of the shock, I don’t think I cried once.  I was like a ticking time bomb at the funeral home.  It was overflowing for two days.  Friends and family wrote their feelings in two small books that were being passed around.  They were to help everyone and Matt’s family through the grieving process, which was a long time coming.
            The first time I saw Matt in his casket, I broke down.  I almost fell to my knees like I did in the hospital.  I had a pit in the bottom of my stomach and had never felt more out of place.  It was almost an out of body experience.  The person lying in that casket didn’t even look like my boyfriend.  He was swollen and his features had faded.  His beautiful olive skin had turned gray.  I can’t imagine what it was like for the people who saw him for the first time since he collapsed.  What a horrible shock to see a friend in class one day and in his casket the next week.  I am thankful that I had a week to spend
with Matt in the hospital to take my time saying goodbye.
            Matt’s school was directly across the street from the funeral home.  Backpacks were lined up and down the block outside while students were going in and out of the building.  I felt that I had to be strong for his friends; it was as if I could turn my tears on and off.  The last viewing was finally moved to St. Michael’s Church since the funeral home couldn’t hold all who came to pay their last respects.  My best friends Elizabeth, Erienne, Dana, and Nabu came that night to the church to show their support and to see Matt one last time.  I was unusually calm because I had been so used to being in that atmosphere that I didn’t think twice about it. 
            It was overwhelming to see just how many people loved him.  My family and I were invited to go to the church early before the funeral to see Matt one last time.  This was a church that I talked my parents into attending for awhile partially because I wanted to see Matt.  Now I was attending it for his funeral.  I kneeled before his casket and thanked him for the short few months we shared together.  Next to Matt, I placed my picture and a small white teddy bear holding a heart to keep with him forever.  I touched his arm and finally pulled myself away.  Standing room only at the funeral was an understatement.  It was literally packed!  The service was beautiful, especially when Dr. and Mrs. Velez each spoke about their son.  The line of cars went on for blocks in the procession to the cemetery.  I was numb; all I could think was that Matt was too young to die and I was too young to lose. After the prayers were said and the tears were shed, I placed a single red rose on the final resting place of my first true love.                                                                                                                          
            I visit Matt's gravesite occassionally these days, even if I don't get out of my car. The picture of Matt on his headstone is one that I took at my 16^th birthday party.  The name Matthew means “God’s gift.”  And that is exactly what he was.  So Matt’s family had his headstone engraved with the only thing that made sense.  “Our son, grandson, brother and friend: Our gift from God.”
            My friends and family were my gifts from God after Matt passed away.  My mom always gave me notes and cards of encouragement to get through the day.  I have been on an emotional rollercoaster ever since.  In high school, I would be okay during the day; my friends took my mind off of things.  My first day back, Margaret burst into homeroom with a hilarious story about her weekend at the movies.  An older lady was searching for her daughter in the dark; the movie had already begun.  She was yelling, “Prreeciioouus!  Is that you Precious?”  Margaret did a great impression!  It made me laugh out loud for the first time in a week.  During the night, I would sob for hours sitting at my computer with my friends talking me through it.  It hit me hard during the next few weeks that he was really gone.  I couldn’t call Matt when I was having a bad day or to just hear his voice.  Some nights I woke up crying.  One night I woke up in a cold sweat because I had a bad dream that I had forgotten Matt’s phone number since it had been so long that I had talked to him.  But it turned out that I really did forget his number.  I was in a panic, so I looked it up in the phone book.  I thought a lot about the Christmas season and how we wouldn’t be able to spend that time together.
            My brother, Greg, thought a lot about it too.  Over Christmas break, he came into my room before he had to leave for work.  He had planned to tell me how sorry he was and that he was there if I needed to talk.  But he said nothing.  We were hugging and crying together for a half an hour.  Greg cried all the way to work that day.  This made me feel sorry for Matt’s family who lost a son and brother just one month before the holiday.
            I was having a conversation online on Christmas Eve with one of my close friends, Max.  He reassured me that Matt was spending Christmas with Christ Himself and that it would be the best Christmas he ever had.  Before he had to go, Max said, “I love you and if I could bring him back, I would do it in a heart beat.  I hope you can make it through all of this and come out stronger than ever.  I am here for you 110%.”  Max was the first to be there for me in person.
            All of my friends, and Matt’s friends, gave me their support; the Internet was my saving grace.  Writing has also been like therapy.  I have been keeping a journal for 15 years now.  One of Matt’s classmates also made a Web site in his honor where his family and friends could post pictures, poems, and entries in a guestbook.  I wrote in it at least once a week for the first few months.  It was almost like I could talk to Matt again.  It was easier to write about my pain than to talk about it at first.  I like to believe that McNeil and I got each other through Matt's death by sharing our misery with many 3 a.m. conversations. 
            On the first anniversary of Matt’s death, Nov. 24, 2002, friends and family gathered at St. Michael’s School to watch a video that Mrs. Velez had put together.  She spent a long time with one of the teachers from CCHS combining pictures, video clips, and music.  It was intense seeing footage of Matt.  It felt like he was right in the room with everyone.  It showed all events of his life such as being an infant, tons of pictures with his family, First Holy Communion, eighth grade graduation, wiffleball tournaments, and Homecoming 2001.  The hardest, yet most touching part to watch was a clip of Matt wrestling in the living room with his brother, Mike.  Their cousin Nick was filming and talking in the background.  It took place just days before Matt and I met for the first time.  When I heard Matt’s voice, I felt like I was the only one in the room and he was talking to me.  That is when I realized that it had been too long. I still find myself watching this video from time to time.
            For a while, I convinced myself that I would never love again.  I couldn’t fathom the idea of letting someone else into my heart because I was still in love with Matt.  My mom often told me that I was the one for Matt, but he wasn’t the one for me.  And if Matt was so wonderful, “just think of how wonderful the right guy will be,” she said.  Sometimes I feel older than my years.  I have never known someone who has been through the loss of a loved one like I have at such a young age.  I have moved on with my life, but the memories of Matt will be locked deep inside for as long as I live.  They can’t be taken away.  Every girl remembers her first love, but not a day goes by that I don’t think about mine.                         

            Saint Augustine once said, “It is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.”  Meeting Matt has been an adventure from cyber-space to reality in a few short months.  He taught me to never take my loved ones for granted, for you never know when their last tomorrow will be.