First True Weekend Away

Since our son has been born, there has been very little opportunity to get time away.  Its not that the will hasn't been there, or the desire to get away hasn't been there.  Rather, its been more a matter of finding or making the time to get away.  We have taken the occasional opportunity to get out for a night by ourselves, but that ends way to quickly and then its back to reality as soon as we left it.  This past weekend, however, was our first time actually taking a whole weekend and getting away by ourselves; no child, no dogs, no cat.  Nothing.  We had planned this weekend away for some time and by the time it came around, we were more than ready to get away and do nothing.  So Friday, which my wife and I took off from work, we spent the morning with our son and right around lunch time, headed down to my parents house to drop him off for the weekend.  We had no clue how he would do over the course of the weekend without us as we had never left him for that long before.  But, we didn't worry that much as he is a fairly easy going child, mostly flexible, and loves his grandparents.  So we had lunch as a family at my parents house and after putting him down for a nap there, got in our car and headed out for our weekend.  We got on the road before there was any rush our traffic headed straight for our destination, Narragansett, Rhode Island.  We have what I'll call a family friend who owns a condo in that quaint sea-side town opposite the bay from Newport and who was willing to let us stay there for the weekend free of charge.   It took us maybe an hour and a half to get out there and after making a quick stop at the grocery store to grab food for dinner and breakfasts, we were at our weekend retreat.  We settled in quickly on Friday, relaxed, made our dinner, and before it was even 8 o'clock in the evening, were falling asleep in comfy rocking chairs in front of the TV.  While our activities on Friday were par for the course of any Friday, we had no child to worry about getting down for bed, no dogs to feed and let outside to relieve themselves, and no cat pawing her way all over us looking for her most comfortable spot.  It was just my wife and I, and quiet.  It was a nice break from the normal routine.  As much as we love our son and our animals, it was nice to take some time to ourselves and just focus on ourselves. 

 

Saturday morning we slept in, not late like normal people, but until 7, which is late for us.  On a normal Saturday, we would have been up the latest by 630 with our son, scrambling around the kitchen to make breakfast and trying to entertain our son while all of us got more and more hungry.  This past Saturday, we leisurely made our way downstairs and with no hustle or bustle at all, made our breakfast and ate it in silence, except for the sound of our own voices talking.  It was a slow breakfast, with a slow clean up, and a long discussion about what we actually wanted to do on Saturday.  We ultimately decided to make our way to Newport for a few hours, visit one of the spectacular mansions that was built during the gilded age on the water, and then make our way back for lunch.  My wife had never been to Newport and it had been over a decade since I had last been there.  It's a beautiful town with beautiful houses and our few hours spent there was fun.  Once we finished with our tour of the mansion, The Breakers, we had lunch with my brother and his girlfriend turned fiancee at perhaps the best little burger shack around, the Crazy Burger.  It was good food, good times, and afterwards, they were off the casino, and we were off for a little drive around the area.  We meandered our way down to the Point Judith light house and off a gravel road nearby, an old buried army bunker that 7 years ago I had snuck in with a friend.  Its still there, albeit a little closer to the ocean now due to erosion, and I didn't sneak in this time as my pregnant wife was with me in the car.  So after our little drive, we made our way back to the condo where I proceeded to take a nap for an hour and upon waking up, we had the incredibly hard decision to make about whether to order take out or actually make our way to a restaurant and have dinner out.  Despite our incredible desire to just order take out, we freshened up (meaning put on our shoes) and made our way out to a small restaurant.  It wasn't the best, but it was decent and the food was at least edible.  The young waitress did forget our clam chowders, but since dinner came in its place, we didn't really care too much. 

 

Saturday evening was spent much the same way Friday evening was, a few rounds of cards, and then relaxing in front of the TV till we fell asleep.  Saturday came and went way to quickly, although we did get to relax a lot, and then came Sunday and preparations to go home and pick up our son from my parents house.  We did miss our son, but were also a tad bit lazy about getting ourselves together to go home.  We did make it back in time to pick up our son and ferry him home so he could take his afternoon nap at home.  In the end, the time spent away flew by way too fast and after even just after two days without a child or pets, getting thrown back into the mix was a shock to our systems.  I think it was more that after 2 days of completely quiet and no responsibility outside of feeding ourselves, having a child and pets craving attention pushed us a little overboard.  But here we are, back to Monday morning, and life is returning to normal.  It is almost time to get our son out of bed and get breakfast started before running out of the house.  My wife and I are hoping to make this a yearly tradition for ourselves as this was a much needed break from everything.  We shall see if it happens next year, but we will do our best to make it happen.  The two things I came away with from this weekend are that I love my wife just as much as the day I married her and I definitely love my son, but my wife always comes first. 

The Exotic Appeal

One of my favorite sections in the New York Times is, without a doubt, the travel section.  Sometimes I even wish that I could receive the travel section only and disavow the rest.  Whenever I open up that newspaper on the weekends, which has been occurring even more sporadically of late, I am always curious as to where the travel section will bring me.  This past weekend, at least I think it was this past weekend, brought me to the Karakoram Highway between China and Pakistan.  While most of us, upon reading the word highway, will think of a nicely paved 4 lane road, this "highway" as they call it is probably named more for the dizzying heights it reaches than anything else.  Fraught with landslides and occasional washouts, it is more of a dirt road than anything else.  The picture that drew me instantly in was one of stark beauty and covered the front page of the Travel section.  It was a picture of a pristine lake with a small town on its far shore.  Behind the lake and town, which occupied less than the bottom third of the picture, were a few sand dunes which quickly rose to bleak dark mountains.  The lighting in the picture highlighted the sand dunes and the town with clouds casting dark shadows on the mountains behind.  It was tantalizing, mesmerizing, and begged me to hop on a plane and make the trek to that picture.  I had to read the article, which was good, but the pictures are what drew me in.  In other pictures in the article, you could see that behind the bleak mountains were snow topped peaks.  It is a scene that I rarely get to see, and when I do, I want to go exploring.  Despite the dangers in that part of the world, I would love to travel there, explore the land, the people, the culture, and absorb it all.  But if I ever do get there, it won't be for a while.  But its nice to see those pictures, dream of the journey, and picture myself one day driving that rutted road (or more likely having someone else drive me).  Oh well, for now its back to reality. 

My Little Helper

I have only been a father for a little over two years now, yet every day as a father, while always holding their moments of angst and questioning, shows me more and more how much fun being a father can be.  I don't know how many other father's let their two year olds help install a hardwood floor in their house, but this past weekend, I did.  As I am slaving away to get our son's new room done so his little brother or sister can move into his current room upon birth, this past weekend brought about the installation of his new floor.  It was yet another whole day event, similar to the previous Saturday that was spent sheet rocking, and yet, unlike last weekend, I was able to get the floor mostly done in one day without my wife and son going elsewhere to spend the night.  For a good portion of the day, my wife went out with her mother and our son.  They did some shopping, our son took his nap in the car, and by the time they came home, I was more than half way done with the room.  As nothing seriously dusty or toxic was going on, upon their return they made their way up to the room to check on the progress.  Well, our son being at the inquisitive age that he is, he walked right in and started looking at all the wood and tools lying around.  The first stop he made was at the boxes of flooring that were laid out.  Since that was his first stop, I asked him to bring a piece over to where I was working.  Without a moment's hesitation, he picked one up and brought it over.  With him in the mood to help, I figured that I would show him how to put the floor in.  With his help, we placed the piece where it needed to go.  I then showed him the small piece of wood I used as a hammer block to knock the piece in tight.  He had to help with the hammer, so with his hands on it, we both swung and knocked the piece tight into place.  Then came the flooring nailer which tried to pick up on his own with very little success.  The rubber mallet, lighter obviously than the nailer, he was able to pick up and with my help, we swung it and hit the nailer to drive nail in and secure the floor down.  Every time we swung that mallet and the nailer went off the biggest smile burst on to his face.  He was incredibly excited to be helping put the floor down, especially with the big tools that I was using.  We got one more piece in together, and then I was torn with having him continue to help me or having him go downstairs so I could fly along and finish using the flooring nailer.  I decided ultimately that since I had limited time left, I had to work by myself.  It was a very difficult decision because there was nothing that I wanted more than to have him help me, despite the fact that he is only a little over two and doesn't completely understand the process. 

 

The decision tore at me even more as he was taken out of the room screaming and crying, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy..."  Every time I came downstairs to cut some more pieces of flooring, I opened up the wound and while he got excited at first, he soon burst into tears as he realized that he couldn't come upstairs with me to work on the floor.  It was just one of those times when as much as I wanted him to help, I needed to get things done quickly and he would have hindered that process.  At least I had him help me for a few pieces.  After I was done with the nailer and brought it downstairs, he tried grabbing the mallet and hitting the nailer where we had hit it, just without success as the air hose wasn't attached to it.  His curiosity and desire to help never ceases to amaze me.  Then yesterday, when we went into his new room just to take a look, I decided to have him help me put a few more floor boards down, this time by hand as it was near the end of the room.  I pre-drilled the holes for the nails and had him put the nails into the holes for me so I could hammer them in.  He wanted to use the hammer, but as it is a little more than half his size, I really didn't want him putting too many dents in the floor.  He had the right idea though and knew where he needed to hit the nails.  He also was putting pieces of flooring in by himself and trying to put the hammer block on the edge so he could get the piece nice and tight.   We got a few pieces in together before we went back downstairs.  I love the help that I got.  I know that when he gets a little bit older and bigger, he will be even more help as we work on projects together.  At this age, its still a little tough.  And yet, everything I show him, he can replicate even if he doesn't understand the concepts behind what he is doing.  This age is truly amazing.  The brain of a two year old is like a sponge.  Everything they hear and see gets absorbed and can be replicated with ease.  That is part of why I don't hesitate showing him everything I am doing.  His curiosity is there and I don't want to be the one to diminish it or squash his desire to learn.  I love my little helper, mostly because he is my son, but also because he is just amazing. 

A Half Day Weekend

Well, let me start this off by saying for a Monday, I am already exhausted.  The normal two day weekend was shortened into a half day yesterday for me.  It wasn't that I was working on jobs for money, I was working on our son's new room that needs to somehow get done by Thanksgiving or soon after.  But, I must say, a lot got done this weekend.  It all started Friday afternoon after work when I had a friend come over to help move 22 sheets of sheet rock up to the room.  Normally when I come on a Friday I crash, but there wasn't time for that.  The sheet rock luckily didn't take long to move with 2 of us maneuvering it around the tricky corner to get it up the stairs.  After that, nothing was done till Saturday morning.  Come Saturday morning, I got my wife and son packed up to spend the ensuing day and night at my parents house so I could work non-stop on getting the room sheet rocked, something I can't do continuously if they are home due to our son's nap and early bedtime.  By 8 o'clock in the morning, I was ready to get to work.  The sheet rock started going up, along with the last bit of insulation, and work continued non-stop till dinner time.  At that point, I took a brief break to head to my parents house for dinner, see our son, and put him to bed there.  I was back home by 7:30 in the evening and proceeded to work till almost midnight.  A long day, yes, but I almost finished hanging all the sheet rock on Saturday alone.  So after getting to bed by 12:30 in the morning on Sunday, I woke up 5 hours later and was back to work by 6:30.  It was crunch time, so there weren't any big breaks after breakfast.  I needed everything done and cleaned up by 11 when my wife and son were due back home.  I managed to meet at least that deadline and for now, all the noisy work is done.  All the sheet rock is up and ready to be taped.  Yesterday afternoon was a tired one for me.  All I wanted to do was nap, and yet, I had running around to do while our son napped and then soon after I got home, he woke up and we were off to our afternoon of playing in the house.  And now for encore, I have two long days ahead of me as I need to meet a deadline of installing a hardwood floor by Wednesday morning.  It won't be easy, but I will somehow get it done.  The floor isn't in my house (that will be next weekend in our son's room), but rather at a customer's house.  They are on vacation till Wednesday morning and need their master bedroom back by that time.  Lets keep our fingers crossed that I don't fall asleep while working and make it through this long week.  Now, I must run and get my family going for the day.  Insanity I tell you, insanity!

Success!

Well, nothing is official yet, but we may have figured out the solution to our son stripping himself of clothes and diaper at night and sleeping naked.  It wasn't our idea, so I can't take full credit for the it, but I will give credit where credit is due.   My mother, having already raised 2 children, obviously has more ideas on how to correct little problems.   She also has the distance necessary to look at things objectively and make recommendations based upon her observations.  The simple solution to the desperately tragic problem of sleeping naked in the winter?  Turn our son's pajamas around so that the zipper runs down his back instead of the front.   The first time we tried the new trick, he was completely flummoxed.  He was grabbing at where the zipper should have been and upon not finding it, tried reaching to his back to find where the zipper was.  There was no success and that was about a week ago that we started flipping his PJ's around.  So we have this little triumph to be proud of.  Potting training is moving along slowly, with its ups and downs, Mondays being the worst, and the occasional incident of walking into the living room just to see our son sitting on the bottom step of our stairs peeing on to the floor and watching it.  All in all, he is getting much better at using the potty, as long as he is naked.  It seems as soon as he has a pull up on, he feels he can just pee whenever.  Well, not quite whenever.  Depending on the day and the time, sometimes he notifies us when he has to pee with the pull up on, but not always.  Its a slow process, but we will get there eventually. 

One thing I must say about our son is that he is a complete nutcase (much like his father).  In the afternoons and evenings, he runs around the house like a wild banshee.  He is getting faster and faster and occasionally he gets a little too fast for his own good, especially when he is wearing socks in our house.  There have been a number of times recently where he has been running in our house, going a little too fast, and in the midst of trying to negotiate a turn, has had his feet slide completely out from under him and he either face plants the floor or tumbles and falls in some weird position.  The majority of the time, he simply looks stunned for a second and then gets up and starts running again.  Its the funniest when you hear him running, hear the slide of the socks on the floor without seeing him, and then all of a sudden a 2 year old is sliding on the floor from around a corner.  I sometimes can't help but laugh out loud.  Just yesterday, one of the funniest things occurred.  It could have been bad, but luckily we have a resilient little child and it wasn't.  To set up this latest incident, I must tell you about our son's latest infatuation with jumping.  Let me first say that it is the cutest thing.  If we are sitting on the couch, he will climb up on our leg, count to three while holding a hand, and then jump on to the couch, legs flying out and landing squarely on his but.  He will also place small items on the floor, normally flat puzzles or really thin books, walk on top of them, and jump off of them.  It is the cutest thing to watch.  Well, yesterday evening, as we were playing on the couch before he went to bed, he climbed up on the arm of the couch, seated, and launched himself off a couple of times.  On the other side of the arm of the couch is a bench for playing the organ.  The last time he went to climb on to the arm of the couch, he started slipping backwards and before I had a chance to grab him, he folded in half and disappeared, sliding between the bench and the arm of the couch.  One minute there was a child, the next he was on the floor.  He got a little scared, but didn't get hurt at all.  I am sure he will be back doing it again today.  Our son will undoubtedly start getting hurt one of these days, I just hope it isn't soon and when he does, I hope the bumps and bruises aren't too bad.  For now, we will just watch and laugh as he takes his little tumbles. 

If Money Didn't Matter

I saw an interesting short video yesterday that was posted on FB.  I rarely watch the video's on there, but if it piques my interest, I go ahead and give it a watch.  I forget the title of the video, but it was simply a montage of different cool video clips, strung together, and narrated by some guy.  One of the first questions he asks is, "If money didn't matter, what would you do with your life?"  This notion of being able to completely disregard money and follow your dreams has always appealed to me.  In essence, it means doing what you are passionate about and not worrying about how you will pay the bills.  It means following your inner voice, the one that speaks from your heart, and disregarding the your brains logical messages about living, making money, and creating a "good" life for yourself.   But what is a "good" life?  Is it one filled with money that could allow you to do whatever you want or is it one where you do what you really want to anyway and find a way of making money doing that?  I know when I was younger, part of me thought that I needed money to be happy, that I needed money to buy things to create a "happy" world around me.  That feeling never really sunk in, though, and it remained on the periphery of my brain, always there, yet never melding itself with who I was.  To me, I came to see the "good" life filled with money as what it truly was, a rat race that perpetuates itself, sucking you in, making you work and work and work with seemingly no end in sight.  The video that I watched said about as much.  It spoke about creating a world where we perpetually teach our young kids that we need to get a "good" job to make money to live and that if we do that, it will be a never ending vicious cycle that we would not be able to get ourselves out of.  Those who follow their passions, do what they want regardless of the money involved, will eventually make a living, maybe not with large reserves of cash, but with true happiness because they are following their dreams.  In the video, there is one part that says that if we do what we are passionate about over and over and over again, we will become masters of it and by doing that, will make a living of it.  I couldn't agree more.  If we are interested in learning about what we are passionate about, there is not stopping the human spirit, and eventually we will succeed at it. 

 

I often times look back at the decisions that I made that have brought me to where I am now.  I must honestly say, I don't regret any of them.  While I may have followed my passions a little more, disregarded money a little bit more, I have for the most part created a life that is based upon my passions.  I didn't stay in school to get a "good" job making tons of money sitting in an office.  I quit instead to start my own business painting houses.  I am passionate about writing, and I write almost every morning right here, on my blog, sharing my thoughts and experiences with those who wish to read about them.  When I want to go hiking, I go hiking.  I love camping and Vermont and my wife and I figured out a way of buying land up there almost 5 years ago.  Sure, I live in a small house on a small piece of land, but I have made it my own and I call it my home, because that is what it is.  Do I love traveling?  Absolutely, and I travel when I can.  I can't afford to travel everywhere I want to, but that's OK, my life is good.  I often times wonder how some people can sit in an office all day, punching a keyboard, dealing with information and data that they are not interested in only to get a bigger pay check at the end of the day.  Perhaps that is what some people are passionate about, but I feel that many are not.   Money is a big driving factor that keeps many people from doing what they are passionate about.  For me, more money would always be nice, but I would rather be happy doing what I am doing even if it means making less money.  But I work for myself, shouldn't I be making more money?  I could be, if I hired people and added stress to my life, but that wouldn't make me happy.  I put happiness first in my life and everything else comes second.  Even when I was younger, I did what I wanted to do regardless of the consequences because I knew at the time that it would make me happy and it was what I was passionate about.  What about you?  Do you follow your heart or your brain?  Are you doing what you are passionate about or merely working to try and live?  My biggest desire is to instill in my son the desire to follow his passions, whatever they may be, and teach him that money isn't all its cranked up to be.  I hope that he can follow that inner voice of his with complete abandon and create a life for himself that he is completely proud of and even more, a life that will make him happy.  Only time will tell now how things will go. 

Last Bid Farewell

I mentioned earlier this week, on Monday, that I was writing a piece about Matt Lofaro for the Milford Patch instead of writing my blog.  Well, I wrote it, I emailed it to the editor, and never heard back from him or saw it in the Patch.  So, in light of not getting the piece into the Patch, I will instead post it hear for any who wish to read it.  What I also did, because I had a feeling that something like this might happen, was printed it out and handed it to Matt's dad at the funeral on Monday morning.  I felt like having something about his son in hand might help him out a bit.  I'm sure that there isn't much that anyone can do to lessen the grief he is feeling, but I tried to do my small insignificant part.  In any case, following is what I wrote, maybe a bit lengthy, but here it is, unedited by any newspaper and not even a week old. 

 

Matt Lofaro, Coming Full Circle 

When I think about the perception that many people who never knew Matt Lofaro will have, it saddens me to think that most will only think of him as a criminal.  People will consider only the one incident that propelled him into the news and the one incident that ultimately led to his demise, his alleged robbery of a convenience store.  Yet to look at only one incident to define a whole lifetime, however short it may have been, is folly, for behind every incident is a story that needs to be told.  Perhaps I am not the best one to tell that story now, but being one of Matt Lofaro’s friends, I have been granted that opportunity.  I still, after almost a week, can’t fathom that Matt Lofaro would actually rob a store.  Even after talking to and hearing from dozens of people, none of it makes sense to me.  Looking back at his life, one that was led with an eternal smile plastered to his face, the only explanation that my mind can come up with as reasoning for his actions is that it was a stupid prank gone horribly wrong.  Even if the truth proves otherwise, in my heart I will believe it was Matt’s last devilish joke.  For Matt wasn’t a fighter, wasn’t a criminal, and had no bone in his body that would ever desire to hurt another human being.  For all intensive purposes, Matt was a lover of life and of people, and all who knew him were better off due to their relationship with him.  To think that Matt would ever intentionally harm another is truly beyond my comprehension.  Yet, what done is done, and we can’t undo the past.  Nothing we speculate about now will bring Matt Lofaro back.  No actions we take in hindsight will correct any wrongs.  The only thing we have left now is the memory of who Matt Lofaro was, and that memory for so many people is filled with good times, smiles, laughs, and friendship with a man who had everything going for him. 

 

I first met Matt Lofaro towards the end of my tenure in high school at St. Joseph’s in Trumbull.  We were introduced by a mutual friend, Matt Lanier, and if it weren’t for that introduction, I don’t know if we ever would have connected.  But our interaction back then was brief as he was three years younger than me, but that interaction planted the seed of friendship that would endure the next 13 years of our lives.  I went off to college for a few years before coming home to work on finishing college closer to home.  It was upon that return home that our friendship really took off.  Every time I saw Matt, he welcomed me with open arms and a smile, and of course, the persistent question about how I was doing.  He was always looking out for his friends, would do anything for them, and to me, that spoke volumes about his character and the family that brought him up.  Matt would not have been the person he was without his family, two younger brothers and a mother and father who loved him dearly.  Over time, I came to know them as well and I must affirm that the saying, “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” rang true for Matt Lofaro.  His family, much as he did, was always welcoming.  The Matt I knew was always seeking the good times with friends, and success in life.  There were his famous Mojito’s he made, better than any I had tried previously.  There was his desire to be successful in whatever job he held, which he largely was, and towards the end, there was his desire to move forward with his girlfriend in the house he recently bought.   All this speaks to the Matt I knew, the Matt with whom I shared many good times, and the Matt with whom I looked forward to years of future friendship.  The last few years of our relationship as friends saw a little distance, mostly due to the start of my own family with a child, now two years old.  I remember a few weeks after our son was born, Matt and his girlfriend Kat came over to visit, to see our newborn son, and to hang out for a bit in our house.  Yet even with the distance that grew between us, we always re-connected, always stayed in touch, and never forgot about our friendship.  It wasn’t until yesterday, at his wake, that I began to forget all that had happened last Wednesday morning.  To dwell on that one day would be to take away from the memory of who he was.  To see the long line of friends and family waiting to pay their last respects spoke volumes about who he was and the positive impact he had on others.  I cried yesterday, as many did at that wake, but not for Matt himself (he wouldn’t have wanted that), but for the people he left behind and the empty spot in their hearts that once beheld a wonderful person.  But mostly, I cried because Matt and his dad had not spoken in the weeks leading up to Matt’s death, and being a father now myself, it tore at my heart to know that his dad would never have the satisfaction of reconciling with his son, which he truly desired to do.  I was debating going to the prayer service/funeral today for Matt, but in the end, it is something I must do, if for nothing else than to say goodbye one last time, and of course, shed a few more tears. 

I titled this little piece “Coming Full Circle” and I am sure that some of you are wondering why I would title a piece over a friend’s death as such.  Well, it will all be explained now.  You see, about four years ago, for whatever reason, Matt Lanier (our mutual friend who introduced us) and I stopped talking.  For years before that we had been really good friends, and then there was nothing.  He went on to get married and have a daughter.  His daughter is about two weeks older than my son.  I don’t know what caused the split in our relationship, but we just didn’t talk, didn’t hang out, it was as if he and I had moved to different planets.  Yet, that distance disappeared last Thursday in the wake of Matt Lofaro’s death.  It was as if Matt Lofaro, in one of his last acts, brought Matt Lanier and myself back together.  The man who I was introduced to in the end re-introduced me to our friend.  And last Thursday, sitting at a bar, reminiscing about old times, toasting the Matt Lofaro we knew, we vowed to never let that distance get between us again.    To me, for every life lost, a new one is born, and this could not be more true than now.  People will mourn the passing of Matt Lofaro, but in his passing, he will undoubtedly change others for the better.  Whether it is renewing in others a commitment to their friends or family, or whether it is simply planting the inspirational seed to live life to its fullest and never let a moment pass us by, Matt Lofaro will have a lasting impact on many, I am sure.  Now is not the time for anger at what happened, but time to look forward and remember the Matt we all knew so well.  Nothing can change what happened, but in Matt’s passing, perhaps we can change ourselves for the better.  I know I was changed by Matt, and in his passing have renewed my own commitment to life, to friends, to family, and to everything I love and cherish.  We never know when life will turn on a dime for us, we will never know when life will come to an abrupt end, but what we can know is that we did the best we could, loved as much as our hearts could endure, and always put our best foot forward.  Matt Lofaro’s life was not in vain.  He impacted many and will continue to impact many for years to come.  For all those saddened by the loss of Matt, a friend, a son, whatever he was to you; I am sure that wherever he is, he is smiling down on us with love, for that is what he had for everyone.