Just a few months before my 11th birthday, I received what would become the best gift a girl could get. My baby brother, Matthew, was born. From the day he came home from the hospital, he was my responsibility. If my parents went out, my older sister was in charge of the other 3 children, and I was put in my parents' bedroom with this little bundle.
It came to be that every night, until he was 7 years old, I was the one who sang or read him to sleep every night. Silent Night was his favorite song. Let Me Call You Sweetheart was his other favorite.
No matter what hell was placed on me, this little child made me believe - in God, in miracles, in a better life.
But, when he was 7 1/2 years old, I had to leave. The abuse in our home had grown out of control, and I had tried everything to stop it. I had to be selfish... and I walked away. I was blessed with the chance to see Matthew, and my other brothers, one more time when Matthew was 9 years old. But, little did I know, that would be the last time.
This sweet little boy who let me sing off-key to him... who caught grasshoppers and snuggled with them until they died, at which point he'd cry... who caught frogs and named every one of them Hopper... who made us stop in the middle of a high way to save a turtle... who could always make me smile...
This sweet little boy, 4 years ago tomorrow, took his own life.
I love you, Matthew. I love you, and I miss you dearly. I hope God is enjoying your music in Heaven.
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