July 3rd, 1991 was the happiest day of my life. My first born son had been born. He was so beautiful, so healthy, so perfect. I named him Matthew because it meant "God's Gift". Matthew was my whole life.
On December 26, 1992, My whole life began to fall apart. Matthew was 1 1/2 years old...I was babysitting my baby cousin Julia. She was sick with a cold so I monitored her temperature often. It was about an hour before her mother was to come and get her and I was taking her temperature....and yes...she had a fever. Afraid that Matthew may have gotten her cold I decided to take his temperature as well..just to make sure. Much to my surprise, Matthew's temperature was even higher than Julia's. I got both of the kids ready and we waited for my aunt to come so we could take both kids to the emergency room....
After being at the hospital for 5 hours, Julia ended up having an ear infection. Matthew, on the other hand had a virus that he could not take anything for. I was just told to make sure he got plenty of fluids. You know...the normal treatment for any child.
The next day Matthew was not getting any better. In fact, he was getting worse. He began vomiting. Another trip to the hospital..and once again we were sent home..but not before the doctor told me that first time parents seem to get a little paranoid.
The following day..Matthew was still vomiting...to the point where he wouldn't eat anything because he knew he would be sick. A few times that day, as he was walking around, he would lose his blance and walk into the wall. As far as I knew..it was because he was weak. But..off we went again to the hospital. And again the same results. The doctors there made me feel like I was being a paranoid first time mother. But I knew there was something wrong. I just knew it!

This went on..every day until Jan 5th. Matthew just seemed to be getting worse by the minute. He wasn't eating, wasn't walking....hell...wasn't doing much of anything. He just laid n the couch like a little ragdoll. Sometimes I managed to get him to drink something, but he no longer got it down and it was coming right back up again....
That day I decided that instead of taking him back to emergency, I took him to a doctor on call. The doctor took one look at him..called emergency to let them know we were on our way. He instructed them to get a room ready for him on the pediatric floor and he also told themhow incompetent they had been...
After he had finally been admitted..it took several hours before we were finally settled in. The doctors decided to wait until morning before running any tests. I stayed with him through the night...I wasn't going to leave him there for anything. Throughout the night he would wake up screaming. I would jump up and turn on the light to find him still sleeping. I took him out of his bed and we sat in the rocking chair in his room..and that is where we stayed...his nurse coming in occasionally to give me a break...
The next morning a doctor came into his room to ask alot of questions and told me that Matthew was dehydrated so he proceeded to take him to the treatment room to get an IV started. I sat beside Matthew, holding his hand. He was so dehydrated that they had trouble finding a vien to get the IV started. They must have poked him 20 times!! Another doctor came in to assess the situation and started talking to the other doctor about the possibility of it being menengitis. I knew then it was time to call Matthew's father.
I left the room long enough to make the call and was headed back to the treatment room when I saw one of the doctors running down the hall..with a closer look I realized that she was carrying Matthew in her arms. They were running toward ICU and she was yelling "He's not breathing!"
They would not let me into the room. They told me to go into the family room and they would be with me as soon as they could. Within minutes I had a social worker sitting beside me...explaining to me that Matthew had seizured and stopped breathing. I just remember being very upset, numb and extremely confused.

By the time they came out of ICU to talk to me, Matthew's father had arrived. They told me the same thing that the social worker had already told me. But they explained to me that Matthew needed a CT scan. And they also explained that the CT scan at the hospital was broke down and we would have to go by ambulance to the other hospital for the scan.
Once we arrived there they told us if they found anything wrong they would call in a specialist to have a look at the results. Now accompanied by Matthew's father, my dad's wife, and my mother...we waited outside the room.
After what seemed like an eternity we heard someone on the intercom caling what seemed to be a dozen doctors to the CT room...as much as I pleaded..they still wouldn't let me in.
After about 20 minutes they finally called me into the room. I was so upset that I can't even remember if Matthew's dad was in the room with us or not. They showed me the CT picture which ofcourse I couldn't understand. One doctor explained to me that Matthew's ventricles in his brain were larger than they should be..then he walked away, leaving me standing there looking at the scan. All I kept thinking was..."fix it!" Then another doctor walked up to me and told me that they would have to operate to remove the tumor...and they would have to operate now.
Very upset and in shock they allowed us to see Matthew for 5 minutes before they rushed my baby for brain surgery. If I had have known the severity and the possible outcome..I would have taken a bit longer.
They wheeled him away and we were shown to the family room where we would wait out the surgery. Trying to keep myself busy I started to make calls to inform everyone of the situation..oblivious...or rather in shock that my 1 yr old baby boy was in the operating room having major brain surgery.
And wouldn't you know it...as soon as we got to the family room, Matthew's dad said that he was going to wait at home because he was tired and I could call him there when Matthew was done in surgery... I then came to reaize that leaving him 6 months before was the best thing I had ever done.
While my mother and I waited out the surgery..we had friends and family coming and going...some to sit with us...some to bring us food and a little comfort.
When the surgery was over...12 hrs later...the neurosurgeon came in to talk to me. He told me that he would have to do a biopsy on the tumor that was removed to see if it was malignant...but he was pretty sure that it was. So what the hell did malignant mean anyway?? I had no clue and was too afraid to ask. He told me that even though the surgery was over it was a very risky operation and Matthew may not even wake up at all. I figured at that point there was no reason to call his father yet. My mother and I just sat in the family room and continued our wait....

After another 4 hours a nurse came in to tell me that he was finally awake. I figured that the phonecall to Matthew's father could wait a couple more minutes...I needed to see my baby first. Before I entered the room, the nurse told me I had to be strong for Matthew. All I could think was.... "ya, right"
I walked into his room, and much to my surprise was my little baby laying on his bed....tubes coming out of his body everywhere and there must have been 30 staples in his head. I sat beside him...fighting back he tears and trying to comfort him. I knew I was going to lose it and I knew I had to leave the room. The last thing Matthew needed was to see his mommy crying. Before I left the room I asked Matthew if he wanted to see his daddy. Because of the breathing tube in his throat all he could do was nod. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and told him I would be right back. I went to the family room to call Matthew's father. His girlfriend answered the phone and said that he was sleeping. I told her that Matthew was awake and she handed him the phone. I told him that Matthew wanted to see him and he said he would be right there. Ofcourse, he didn't show up for another 6 hours. When he did show up, he brought his girlfriend with him. He told me that he didn't care what I thought..He was taking Susan in to see Matthew. But what he didn't realize was that I had full custoday of Matthew and it was up to me who went into that room..I didn't even have to allow him in there. But to spite his actions and the fact that he wasn't there when Matthew woke up, and that it took him 6 hours to come in to the hospital..I let her go in anyway. They stayed a few minutes , told me to keep him updated, then they were gone back home.
I asked the nurse to page the neurosurgeon...I had to know what was happening. When I sopke to him he told me that he was positive that the tumor was malignant...my 1 year old son had cancer. I always saw those television shows about the children who had cancer...but I never thought it would happen here...and especially not to my son...
In order for me to stay with Matthew over night, the social workers gave me a room to stay in. The rooms were usually for people from out of town but they knew I would sleep in his room if I had to...No one was going to make me leave.
The following day as I was sitting beside Matthew's bed, I asked the nurse if I could hold him. She said I couldn't because of all the tubes. I told the nurse that if she wasn't going to help me..I would pick him up myself. I needed to hold him and comfort him. Knowing that I wouldn't give up...she helped me. After getting all the tubes out of the way, she placed him in my arms. I talked to him for a bit... he nodded to me when I asked him questions. I started to sing his favorite son..."you are my sunshine". Well..I came to realize that it was a very stupid song..when I got to the last line..I am sure you know the song.."please don't take my sunshine away"....I totally lost it..fighting back the tears was almost impossible. I asked the nurse to put him back in bed, gave him a kiss and told him I would be right back. I went into the family room...where I started to cry uncontrollably. Right then I vowed that I would never sing that song again.. and to this day..I never have.
A few days later, Matthew was moved to the Neurological Intensive Care Unit, where he would spend the next couple of months. As it turned out, it was for the next 6 months. I was told by the neurosurgeon that because of where the tumor was located (in the 4th ventricle) they had to remove part of his brain. The part that controlled his balance. So...I was told that he wold never walk again. It didn't matter to me whether he walked or not...as long as he was still here.
Eventhough Matthew's surgery went well, he still had many obstacles to overcome. Everything seemed to be going ok..so I thought. One morning I was having breakfast in the hospital cafeteria. When I was done, I headed back up to Matthew's room. He was sitting up in his bed, playing with a toy. Something didn't seem right. I just stood there watching for a moment, not saying a word. I watched him playing, but it was strange. He was playing just like any normal child would...but he would never once look at the toy....He was just staring straight ahead. It caught me off guard because whenever I walked into his room he would always yell out to me and out his arms out for me to pick him up. He didn't even know I was there. I walked closer to his bed...almost standing directly in front of him and he still didn't know I was there. I called out to him..and it was then that he yelled.."mommy". I said good morning..gave him a kiss and told him I would be right back. I went to the nurses desk...in tears...and explained to her that he couldn't see me...He was blind! She went into his room just as I had...and she too started to cry....and went to page the doctor. Once Matthew was assessed, he explained to me that during the surgery..because of the location...the tube that circulates the cerebro-spinal fluid from your brain to the rest of your body had been damaged. Therefore, all of the fluid was gathering in his brain and causing some swelling and that in turn would cause blindness. He said that he would have to put a hole in Matthew's head to drain the fluid..but there was no guarantee that he would get his eyesight back...
As I held Matthew's hand, they gave him some local freezing and began to do what was needed. He put in the tube, drained the fluid, then bandaged him up..within 30 minutes, Matthew could see again. But ofcourse, it was only temporary. Matthew would have to go through yet another surgery to have a shunt put in place. A shunt is a tube that would be placed in his head to circulate the spinal fluid that was collecting in his brain.
Approximately 1 month later, Matthew was moved out of the neurological intensive care unit and put into another room. I slept in the room next to his bed. Only leaving long enough to do laundry, eat and pay bills.

A month later he was then moved to another hospital where he was placed on the pediatric floor. He would then begin chemotherapy. They say that chemo makes alot of people sick....but for Matthew it was ok. He was still his happy, cheerful self..but he did lose his hair...but he thought that was cool.
The months passed..and he was eventually allowed to come home. His chemo treatments had finished, but he had to return to the cancer clinic once a month for blood work and the occasional blood transfusion.
In February of 1994, it was time for Matthew's next CT scan. All of the waiting was making me crazy. A couple of days after the scan, I called his doctor to see if she knew the results. She told me not to worry because Matthew was doing so well and that the tumor would not be back. A few hours later, I got a phonecall. It was Matthew's doctor and she was crying. She gave me the dreaded news..it was back. She explained that because of his size he wouldn't be able to have any more chemo and may not be able to have any radiation at all. The choices were limited. She told me that we would have to go to Sick Kid's in Toronto for further evaluation to see if there was anymore that they could do. She also told me to pack enough stuff because we would be there for atleast a month.
A few days later, we said goodbye to our family and friends and headed to the big city...not something I was looking forward to. It was hard enough to go through that, but to do it all alone was even worse. Before we went to Tononto, we were told that Matthew would be admitted as soon as we got there...and that my accomodations at the Ronald McDonald House would be all ready for me when I got there.
When we got to the hospital, carrying Matthew in one arm, and 2 suitcases in the other..we soon found out that he would not be admitted. We had to cart the suitcases to the Ronald McDonald House, then had to go out for diapers and food.
That was quite an unpleasant adventure. I had Matthew in a wheelchair..in the winter...in a strange place...trying to find a grocery store without getting lost. Yeah right...It seemed like we walked forever and all of the shops had escalators or stairs so I couldn't take Matthew into any of them. I stopped at a corner, sat on a bench and started to cry. A man stopped and asked if he could help me. I told him the story and asked where I could find what I needed. He was kindenough to show me the way to BiWay. Once I got there I was told that the diapers were upstairs. Frustrated again with the wheelchair, one of the employees graciously went to get the diapers for me. On the way back to the house, I passed a store where I bought some vread and some lunch meat so we could atleast eat something.

A couple of days after we were settled in, we had to go to the hospital for Matthew's tests. Then the waiting began again...Once we got the results, the doctor told me that he would operate on Matthew to remove as much of the tumor as possible and then after he had time to heal a bit, the radiation treatments would begin.
The radiation proceedure was to take place at another hospital in Toronto. A van would take us there and wait for us, then return us to Sick Kids. The radiation sessions would be every day, and lasted for roughly 20 minutes of preparation and 2 minutes of radiation, and a total of 1 1/2 hours for transportation.
The radiation was going well, although the treatments made his face dry and red. He was also put on steroids to decrease the swelling...but the steroids made him eat alot and he was very bloated to the point where he was almost unrecognizable.

For the next month or so we continued with the radiation treatments and he was eventually discharged from the hospital and continued to stay with me at the Ronald McDonald House. We even got the occasional family visitor. We also managed a few trips home for a weekend.
One night while I was sleeping I heard Matthew moaning in his playpen. I would get up to see what was wrong, but he was still asleep. In the morning when I woke up I noticed that he did not look well at all. It was an hour before the van would come to pick us up for the radiation treatment. I figured that he would be seeing a doctor there anyway, so we would wait. Once we were there the doctor proceeded to go ahead with the treatment and when Matthew got sick during the treatment he told me to take him right to Sick Kid's to have him examined.
When we arrived at the other hospital, Matthew was not doing well at all. It was only a matter of a few minutes and they had him in a room...Everything happened so fast that I didn't know what was happening at all. Once in the room, they told me that I could not stay, but did not tell me why. I overheard the doctors and nurses yelling out orders for tests, medications, saline bags, and oxygen. I knew that something was terribly wrong. I walked down the corridor to find a payphone so I could call my mother. I needed someone there with me. I couldn't bear all of this on my own any longer. When I told my mother what was happening, as much as I knew anyway. She said that she would get some stuff together and would get her friend to drive her to Toronto.
By the time I was allowed to see Matthew, he was on life support. I can't really remember what they called itat the time, but it was some kind of lung infection. Fluid around his lungs and he could not breathe right on his own. It was so heartbreaking to see him that way. The doctors told me once again that he would not get through this.
By late afternoon my mother had finally arrived. I told her what had happened and took her in to see him before we went to the Ronald McDonald House to get her settled in. The next little while was very difficult. My mother was very supportive, but to make matters worse, Matthew's dad actually showed up then too.

My mother and I stayed by Matthew's side most of the time, only leaving long enough to get something to eat, or go for a walk down Young St. to look in the shops. I guess we both wanted to escape for a little while. A couple of days passed and there was still no change in Matthew. His tiny, lifeless body hooked up to the life support, and sedated on morphine. The doctors had given Matthew a drug to reverse the morphine so they could determine what to do next. A couple of more days passed and he still hadn't waken up. They decided to take Matthew for another CT scan to see if it was from the morphine or if it was neurological. We could expect the results within a couple of hours. When they took Matthew for the CT scan, the doctor told us that it did not look good for him. His father asked if he was going to die. The doctor replied that yes, it was an unfortunate possibility, and that he didn't have alot of hope.His father's only reply was "Well, that's all I needed to know" and then he was gone. My mother and I waited by Matthew's side for the test results. When the doctor finally came back in to talk to me, Matthew's dad was still nowhere to be found. The doctor told us that the test results were ok. He was not waking up because of the morphine and it was nothing neurological. I was so relieved...there was still hope. My mother and I left to go back to the Ronald McDonald House to try and get some rest. They knew if they needed me for anything, all they had to do was page me. Before we went back to the house, I decided that I was going to find Don (Matthew's dad) before I thought about trying to rest for the night. The thought of him out there somewhere was terrifying to me. When Matthew relapsed, Don thought that I should just leave him alone and not put him through any of this. I told him that until the doctors told me there was nothing more they could do...I would do anything humanly possible to save my son. And seeing as though Don was an alcoholic and Matthew was on life support, I couldn't trust him to be alone with Matthew under those circumstances. I didn't know what he was capable of...even if he thought he had the best intentions. Across the street from the hospital was a little restaurant that I had become accustomed to since we had been in Toronto, mainly because of the fact that it was so close. I walked across the street, looked into the window, and there he was ...sitting at the bar. And not surprisingly, a beer in his hand. I knew him well enough to know that he had never 'sipped' beer and he would never stop at just one. He would just guzzle until eventually he would pass out. I walked back across the street..back up to Matthew's room and found his nurse. I gave explicit orders that under no circumstances was he allowed into Matthew's room until morning when he had sobered up. And if he had a problem with that, they could page me and I would go back to the hospital. I got a page at 3 in the morning. I called the hospital and spoke with Matthew's nurse and she told me that Don did show up at the hospital and that she turned him away. When he tried to get past her, she told him that if he had a problem with the orders, he could take it up with me when I got there. Apparently, he got in his car...drunk..and drove back home. I could honestly say that I didn't like the person he had become, but with him driving home that way..I was still worried. Not only for his safety, but also for the safety of everyone else on the road. I called his girlfriend to let her know of the situation. I let her know that she could hopefully expect him home in about 3 hours and if he didn't show up, then she could notify the authorities. But I must admit, that under normal and sober circumstances I would have been happy to see him go home.
The following day, my mom and I were sitting at that very restaurant where Don had been drinking the night before. Having some lunch and a coffee...My mom asked what I thought would happen with Matthew. I told her that I wasn't sure what was going to happen, but I did know that I wasn't ready to go home without him.

By some miracle, Matthew was off life support a couple of days later, then eventually into a regular room. A couple of weeks later he was discharged from the hospital and would return back to the Ronald McDonald House with me. And by this time, my mother had gone back home. He would then resume his radiation treatments. Threee and a half months after going to Toronto, we were finally allowed to go back home...for good. Matthew's doctor told me that if he stayed in remission for 2 years, he would be out of the woods. Again..more waiting...and alot more worrying.

After we returned home we would again have our weekly visits to the cancer clinic. The thought of Matthew having another relapse was always in the back of my mind, but I knew that we would have to live life to the fullest and not dwell on that...atleast not in Matthew's presence. I had to make sure that every day of the rest of his life was a happy one.

That summer after returning back home, Matthew and I went to the cottage with my dad and my step mom. We had a great time. When it was time to go back home, we returned to some good news. I had a message on my answering machine that Matthew and I would be going to New York City for 8 days so that Matthew could meet Billy Ray Cyrus. It was so great to know that Matthew would be able to do something that he had always wanted to do. He was forever singing along to Billy Ray's music and strumming away on his little guitar. It was absolutely adorable.
We decided to take Matthew's Comcare nurse with us, just incase we needed her, and I felt alot better knowing that we weren't going alone. New York was fantastic, better than I had ever imagined. Billy Ray Cyrus was so great to us. He talked to Matthew for a bit and even signed his little guitar. Te message to Matthew read...."Dear Matthew...I believe in miracles....do you? Billy Ray Cyrus" And he also gave Matthew the guitar pic he was using for the concert...He told Matthew...."you can't play that uitar without a pick son". I will never forget that as long as I live...and I am sure that Matthew won't either. While in NYC, we did alot of walking...shopping...and eating..It was a great time. Someday I would like to be able to go back.

The next year or so went great. Matthew was doing well. He was going to school and doing things that all the other children were doing. It was then that I met Scott...my future husband. We became friends when we first met, the gradually began dating. We moved in together in May 1996. Scott was great with Matthew...treated him as if he were his own child. And Scott's parents were wonderful. They took us into their family right away. Matthew always called them Mr & Mrs. K. We were a happy, stable family.

In October of 1996 we had a few incidents of having to pick Matthew up at school because he had been sick. At the time, he had been going to school on tuesdays, thursdays, and every other fiday. I called Matthew's doctor and explained the situation and told her the exact days this had happened. She thought that because he was only getting sick at school, that that might be the problem. She thought maybe he was stressed or anxious at school. I knew better..Matthew loved school. So again, she booked another CT scan for him.

The day of the scan, Scott drove us to the hospital. We got the scan over with and were told to wait in the waiting room and that she would read the scan right away. For some reason, Scott had to leave us at the hospital...I think he had to drive his mother home from work..but for some reason I can't quite remember. While Matthew and I were waiting, there as a girl there wih her children. I can't remember her name, but when Matthew had spent most of that time in the hospital..her son was in there alot too. She offered to watch Matthew for me when his doctor came out and said that she needed to speak with me. I was grateful that she offered to watch him because I knew it was bad news and I didn't want Matthew to hear it.
As I sat in the waiting room all I could think about was being told that if Matthew had been in remission for 2 years that he would be out of the woods. The following month would be 2 years. The doctor came into the room, with his nurse...and sat down beside me. My heart sank as she told me the bad news. The cancer was back..and there was nothing left that they could do, but make sure that he was comfortable and as happy as he could possibly be. She said that he had roughly 6 months. I cried and cried...and I just couldn't stop. I walked down the hallway...grabbed Matthew and held him in my arms and just kept crying.
I finally put Matthew down and tried to regain control. The girl that had watched Matthew said that she would stay with me until Scott arrived. The doctor had made arrangements so that we could have hospice come into our home to care for Matthew. I made the choice long ago...that if we ever got to this point that I would keep him at home, and not in a hospital. When Scott arrived to take us back home, I put Matthew into his car seat in the back and cried all the way home. When Scott had asked what the doctor had said...all I could say was that it was over.....

The next little while was very difficult for everyone. I always had to pretend that nothing was wrong when Matthew was around. How could I ever let my son know that he was going to die....I just couldn't.
In November we got the news that the Sunshine Foundation was going to send Matthew, Scott , and I to Walt Disney World in Florida, and the sooner the better before he started to get sick. Matthew's dad was quite upset about the fact that Scott was going with us. I guess he figured that even though he was not always there for Mtthew..that he should be included.

In December, Matthew had started going downhill. Hospice had sent a hospital bed toput in our living room so that Matthew would not have to go upstairs to bed and so that I could always keep an eye on him. He was put on morphne injections, which I had to learn how to administer, along with some other medications. Christmas was very difficult. I put Mtthew to bed the night of the 23rd, and he woke up Christmas Eve for about 5 minutes. I sat him on my lap and we said a prayer together. When I was done, I asked Matthew if there was anything he wanted to say. My heart sank as he said..."Jesus tells us when it's time to go to Heaven Mommy". I couldn't believe it. He knew...In his own way..he knew what was going to happen. I gave him a kiss and held him tight...never wanting to let him go. He told me he was tired and wanted to go back to bed. I layed him down and went into my room to cry. That was the last time I saw him awake until December 26th. I was so relieved when he finally opened his eyes. I was so sure that Christmas was going to be the time. I guess...it just wasn't the right time...and yes..only Jesus would tell him when it was time.

The next couple of months were very routine. He slept and played nintendo games. Our next door neighbour started a fund for Matthew and I. The money that was raised was put into a bank account and was to be used for bills, medication that was not covered, or whatever Matthew wanted that would make him happy. But along with this fund...came media coverage, which we could have done without.
Matthew's dad was still being difficult. He was very upset because I would not allow Matthew to go to his house. In order to keep Matthew at home..I had to be trained to give Matthew his injections and watch out for any signs that may show deterioration. So as far as I was concerned...it was me who always took care of Matthew and that is the way it would stay. I got a letter from Matthew's doctor saying that he would remain in my care. I was with him in the beginning....I would be with him in the end. Maybe I was being selfish..but I was looking out for my son. I even had to make the funeral arrangements myself. Although, doing it before Matthew passed away was very difficult.

March 28, 1997 (Good Friday) The day started out great. Matthew woke up in the morning, ate breakfast, and we actually managed to go for a walk outside. I put him in his wheelchair and we walked down the road. We stopped beside the creek and just sat...enjoying our time together. I picked up a few rocks and Matthew tossed them into the creek. I talked to him awhile...and eventhough he was too weak to carry on a conversation- I knew he was listening. It was such a peaceful sunny day..or atleast it was until Matthew's dad came by. I wheeled Matthew back home, got him undressed and put him back into bed. A little while later Don showed up. He sat on Matthew's bed....just staring at him...then it all started...
He started saying that when this was 'all over' I would get what was coming to me....along with a few choice words. I did not want to argue with Matthew in the room..so I just sat there and took it until I could take it anymore. I went next door to my neighbour's. I told Scott to call or bang on the wall if he needed me (we lived in a duplex) and I would be right over. I didn't even get to tell my neighbour what was going on..and there was banging..the phone was ringing...people were at the door. I ran home and was told that there was something wrong with Matthew's breathing. I knelt on the floor next to his bed, held his tiny hand and listened to him breathe. He would take a breath then it would seem like an eternity before he took another. This went on for about 15 minutes...I just sat there holding his hand..watching. I wanted to cry...but I didn't want to miss one single breath. The house was so silent, eventhough we had atleast 10 people in there...since it was Easter weekend...everyone was visiting. Then it happened.. my little angel took his last breath. I leaned over him and held him tight...I will always regret that I never said 'I love you' ....
Don, being the sensitive person that he is...said.."I'm sorry..but we both knew this was going to happen"
I sat on the couch and I can't quite remember who it was...but Matthew was placed in my arms...His lifeless, fragile body...I held him tight and just kept saying "I'm sorry...I'm sorry" and I wept.............