*Note that this is the final part of a seven part series. To see the complete story, go to link at the bottom of the page to see the older posts, or to the first part, starting in October of 2010*
I started down the final approach to the area where Matty decided to leave this world. It was a stark contrast to the sopping, foggy place we had visited many months earlier. Spring had come to this place, and ran right into an early summer. I had missed most of the greens and bright colors that I had expected to see. The browns of summer were here already and I began to wonder if I had waited too long to make this journey.
The road began to twist and bend, following the will of the river that ran along it. As I made my way down the road, my thoughts returned to the seeds that were sown those many months ago. Did they grow into a majestic field of color; a dramatic display worthy of a theatrical release? Or would my Wife be correct when she thought that they had little chance to grow, simply scattered around.
My usually sedate riding pace became more urgent as I rounded the bends approaching that far off parking lot. I pulled into the vacant lot and pushed down the side-stand. And what I saw was more fitting than anything we had predicted.
The flowers had come. But not in a vast carpet of bright colors, or a patch of dead browns, but in a modest display of green and pinks and whites, just peeking out of modest little stems. The flowers were a fitting tribute to an old friend, who was a simple and modest guy himself. I sat down in Matty’s last parking space, and remembered something that his old pastor had said before we left to say goodbye here.
“Imagine how much better the world would be if those who were gathered here today went forth and spread love with Matty in mind”, he said.
“If someone is rude to you, turn the other cheek – and think of Matty.”
“If you see someone’s parking meter running low, drop in a quarter – I bet Matty would have.”
“When you go home today, tell someone you love them – and do it for Matty.”
I finally put my kick stand down after pounding out a hard 125 miles to make it home in the early evening. Once again, I had failed to make good on my self-promise to avoid such long freeway rides. I felt as though I had just run a marathon. I was filthy and sticky and exhausted, but satisfied.
Several times since the funeral, I have felt that I fell back to my regular routine too easily. I felt the renewed sense of purpose in my life and the promises that I made to myself have gone mostly unfulfilled. This story represents at least one thing that I vowed to do that day; I promised myself to chase at least one more dream in this life.
I often had wished I had pursued a more creative vocation - instead, I chose a more sensible career that made good money. The more I think about my choice, the more I believe that it contradicts me as a person. So with that in mind, I decided to acknowledge my creative side. I wrote this story, and yes – I did it for Matty.
