The Unbreakable Bonds of Love and Friendship

Growing up alongside each other, our families formed an unshakeable connection. We shared countless family dinners, celebrated holidays together, and spent countless nights engaged in spirited games like Wink and Mafia. The echoes of living room shows, often adorned with exaggerated costumes and bewildering plots, remain cherished memories as we navigated the ups and downs of life side by side.

Though Matt and I drifted apart over the years, with my visits to the island becoming less frequent, I still heard about him through our mutual friends, Jos and Electa. After marrying a few years post my own wedding, he settled down in Nashville and welcomed a child into his life. Yet, regardless of the physical distance, Matt would always show up at my book readings, beaming with pride, grounding me in our shared history.

It was through Electa that I first learned about Matt’s battle with cancer. During my next visit to Nashville, we shared a meal after my reading, where he candidly described the grueling rhythm of chemotherapy—the excruciating days contrasted with the better ones, all shadowed by the anxiety of upcoming treatments. As he drove me around the city, eventually parking at his son’s elementary school, he shared a promise he had made: to live until his son turned 10. Remarkably, he fulfilled that pledge.

The last encounter I had with Matt was on the island. After one of my readings, we talked late into the night on the porch of my inn, sharing memories amidst the backdrop of a place rich with our intertwining histories. With George and my mother both gone, and Matt himself fading, the island felt alive with their memories and the enduring love I hold for them. Beneath a starlit sky, our dialogue remained anchored in the past.

When Jos called me the day Matt passed, we found solace in each other’s company over the phone, reminiscing about all the unforgettable Matt stories we cherished, laughing and crying together around the bittersweet memory of our friend.

Years ago, Jos, Electa, Tyler, and I purchased a small piece of land in Maine—a place Matt will never visit. He won’t experience the home we crafted together on the picturesque peninsula, just 50 miles from our beloved island. As I write this amidst blooming goldenrod and Queen Anne’s lace, I reflect on the joyful gathering we had last weekend. Our kids, now in their twenties and scattered across different cities, made a pact to ensure their future children cultivate friendships from infancy, reminiscent of their own shared past, while late-night laughter echoed around us, unaware that their parents had drifted into dreams.

It was Matt who, in many ways, led us to this moment. Our closeness today is rooted in my youthful infatuation on that rocky beach and my mother’s love for a man named George. Each of them plays a crucial role in the intricate tapestry of love that binds us together.

Love may evolve in form but never in strength. It flows through our lives like an unstoppable river—dynamic and ever-changing. What we must do, and what we are tasked with, is keeping our hearts open to its myriad forms as it arrives and flows through us.