The Fourth, and repressed memories, and little known facts about Matthew’s final days

In the days surrounding the Fourth, I’ve had some pretty damn repetitive conversations. Continue reading

When I’m possibly the trigger

Matthew died in the middle of the hottest f#cking summer in history. I don’t know if this is true, but this is how I perceive it, how I’ll always remember it. It was at least 112 degrees and 140 percent humidity, and when we exited the hospital with a box of belongings through which, to this day, I have yet to sift, to start our most devastating walk to begin our most excruciating drive back to our old lives that we knew were over but hadn’t fully processed as such, the scorch engulfed us, making it feel even more surreal… It was almost as if the heavens had opened up just to give us one last middle finger upon our departure. Continue reading