Lives Lost, Lessons Learned

A post about Matt and our past week, beautifully written by my husband, Robert on his blog ItsOkToPrint...

This past week has been one of the lowest points of my life.

I know that part of our humanity and part of our faith in God is that we must accept death as a part of life. We are taught and counseled that while we cannot fully understand the afterlife, it is not to be feared. It is to be a celebration. A homecoming.

Alas, it still remains a bittersweet one.

I have encountered three deaths in the past few days. One was a famous young person, one a child, and one a family member. I found it remarkable that they all passed away and yet their deaths are not the same, as each contained a different lesson learned.

Amy Winehouse, the English singer/songwriter, died at the age of 27 last week of a drug/alcohol related illness or overdose. While sad, it reminded me that sometimes death is equal parts tragic and pathetic. Lesson Learned: To allow drugs or anything to rule and then take over your life of your own free will is to say that life almost has no meaning, and the talents you have been blessed with by the Creator spit upon. It is by my measure a senseless and selfish waste.

A small girl, 6 year old Gabby, died in a car wreck last week. She was a child that was adopted at about the same time my daughter was. This death serves notice that a life incomplete can sometimes be crossed by cruel fate. Her grandfather lost control of the vehicle they were in: An accident, nothing more. We weep for her death as almost unfair. So much potential never realized. But we also know what great joy and love she gave to everyone around her, enriching the lives she touched. Lesson Learned: A vessel of God’s love if only here but for a short while. A gift. Cherish it each and every day.

Three days ago, fate once again interceded and took away someone close and dear. Matt was a part of my family, though not by birth. He was mysteriously lost at sea three days ago on the naval ship USS Boxer in the Gulf of Aden. He was there on his first tour of duty, a bright eyed and wonder struck petty officer trained in a very special field. He loved his work, he loved doing his part to defend this country, and he loved being a part of something very special.

While his death could be perceived as sharing the tragedy of Amy’s and the abruptness of Gabby’s, I feel he left us as he was meant to. Matt lived more in two years than many of us do our entire lives. He was doing exactly what he wanted to do, fulfilled and lustful for more, a seemingly endless thirst for more knowledge. How many of us can claim that in our professional, personal and spiritual lives?

What Matt leaves with me is not broken dreams or unfulfilled promises, but an example of grasping both what is in important in life and savoring each day. While Matt’s career was nothing short of the highest potential in a complex and shadowy world, He also fully enjoyed some of this life’s simplest things. Nothing made Matt happier than a great cigar, a deck of cards, and good friends. Well, flirting with the closest young lady might rate up there as well. But for all his complexity, he cherished simplicity.

He also never lost sight of his family and his faith. His love and commitment to each was unwavering and uncompromising. When Matt gave you a hug, you felt his heart. That he truly loved and gave love.

Some will remember his mischievous smile. Others will remember his wit and incredible intellect. Still others will remember his dedication to his country and fellow service mates. I will remember his warmth and his hug and his quickness to always say “I love you, Uncle Robert.” Even when his Uncle wasn’t at his best.

Matt is my hero. And in his death, while I feel that a part of my heart has been ripped unfairly away, I know that he is still there and will always be there. And still here watching over me. Smiling and laughing at all that life both gives us and throws at us. Lesson Learned: It is not age, income, social status or place in life that determines the measure of impact someone can have in our lives.

Rest in Peace, Matt Bergman. While your walk with us was far too short, you have left indelible footprints in the sands of our soul.