Today, marks two months since Matt left this old cruel world for a much, much better place. He’s had two months (our time) of peace, comfort, joy, and COMPLETE health. I know many of us have cried many sorrowful tears these past two months, but I hope many of us have also cried tears of joy for him. I know I have.
When I think about Matt feeling so good and being in the presence of the Lord, his dad, other family members who beat him there, and those believers in the Bible we are only able to read about right now, I can’t help but cry tears of joy. I picture Matt talking to all of these people and I plan to someday join the group.
I want to share the story of Matt’s departure in more detail because it is so encouraging. If there is anyone you know who does not believe in heaven, I hope you will share this with them.
Matt came home on hospice at the end of his second battle with cancer, on February 13th. I won't give the details of that battle in this writing, but I do plan to detail it in the future in hopes that it will also help others. However, I will say that Matt was tired from not eating much more than popsicles and feeding tube shakes for over a month. His inability to communicate clearly was also a frustration for him (a muscle in his esophagus was paralyzed). Still yet, he wanted to live.
On February 15th, his mother and sister flew in to surprise him. Matt’s eyes were closed most of the time at this point and I am not sure if he even opened his eyes when they came into the house, but I know as soon as he heard his mother’s voice, he immediately said, “Hi mom...I love you.”
At bedtime, several hours later, Matt asked to be adjusted in the bed (he had no strength to adjust himself). My mother, his mother, his sister, and myself worked together to help make him as comfortable as possible. When we were finished, with his eyes closed, he asked me, “How long is this going to take?” Then he said, “There were more people helping last week. Go talk to them. Let’s get this going. I gotta get better. Let’s get this going…”. I realized he thought he was back in the hospital and our family members were doctors, nurses, etc. I didn’t really know what to say. A few minutes later, he started again. Well, I had (days before) talked to the doctors, so I decided to let Matt know, “I talked to them. They said you might get to go see Jesus.” Matt said, “NO.” I replied, “Don’t you want to see Jesus?” He said, “YES, BUT NOT YET.”
An hour later, when his family had gone to their hotel and my mother had headed for bed, Matt started to talk to me again, saying, “Let’s get this going. Help me. I gotta get up. I gotta get dressed.” I don’t remember everything I said, but I know I talked to him and prayed for him because that was all I could do. Finally, he said, “You’re not helping me. Why aren’t you helping me?” I told him I was, but he continued to tell me that I wasn’t and asking me why. Finally, I told him that I couldn’t because I am human and it was all up to Jesus. Thankfully, I had recently read in the hospice handbook that sometimes when the “time” comes people say hurtful things and loved ones should not take them seriously. I knew Matt knew I loved him very much and I always did everything I could to help him, but I sure didn’t want our last conversation to be of him asking why I wasn’t helping him! I decided to begin talking about good memories we had together. This was the best thing I could have done at that point and I am so thankful that I did.
We reminisced for a long time about so many good memories. Matt’s eyes were still closed most of the time, but he was smiling and even though his speech was still slurred, I could somehow clearly understand him. I reminded him of a song he used to sing to me and he smiled and sang a line from it. We talked about how the Lord put us together and said that it was “better than a Hallmark movie” - just like we always said.
While we were talking, he started having increased pain throughout his body, like fire - even though the outside of his body was very cold. He was not screaming or crying or anything like that, but there was pain. I gave him some pain medication and rubbed his legs because he said they hurt. He also complained of back pain. The pain continued to come and go as we continued to talk of good things. Then, after some time of pause he told me that he had to go. I told him it was okay. After that, he had more pain, and body spasms began.
At one point, during a time of calm, and with his eyes closed, he said, “Go away.” I knew he was not talking to me. He mumbled some other things I could not make out; but again, I knew he was talking to someone, just not me. He told, whoever it was, to “go away” two more times. He wasn’t yelling at whoever it was, he simply did not want to go with them. Finally, his demeanor changed and he said, “Yes, I hear you.” There was such a different tone to it. It was a peaceful submission. Then he told me, once again, “I gotta go” with more finality in his voice this time than the time before. Once again, I told him that it was okay. His body spasmed a bit more.
He was quiet and then I heard him say, “Yes, I hear you. Yes…”. I began singing, “There’s Just Something About That Name” by Bill and Gloria Gaither and...okay, get ready to laugh, in the midst of your tears here. As I was singing, Matt called out, “STOP. I’m serious. They’re talking.” Oh my, I was startled to say the least! Had I just become the first person on the planet to interrupt angels, by singing too loudly?! Yikes! Well, I’ll have to say that is, quite assuredly, one of the most interesting things I have ever accidentally done!! Anyway, a little while later, I guess I assumed they had stopped talking, I asked, “Do you see an angel?” He shook his head and said, “Yes.” I asked, “Does he look nice?” He said, “Yes.” He had a bit more pain run through his body and then, again, he said he had to go. There was a bit more struggle and a few more spasms. I asked if it was scary. He shook his head and said, “No.”
At some point, I asked if he wanted some more medicine and he said that he did. I had to call the hospice to see if I could give more at that time. While I was waiting on a call back from a nurse, Matt talked some more to the angel (or angels) and struggled now and then. I couldn’t make out much of what was being said. But I didn’t start singing again, I’d learned my lesson! Then, all of a sudden, he fell into a relaxed sleep - as relaxed as you can get with sleep apnea, anyway. It was, at least, the most peaceful sleep I had seen him in since he had come home from the hospital. This occurred nearly two hours after this entire scene first began, after family members left and turned in for the night.
The next day, February 16th, while he was still in comfortable sleep, his mother, sister, my mother, my two youngest children, and our pastor was able to say goodbye to him at different times throughout the day. Somehow, Matt was able to respond in various ways to almost everyone even though he was in that “sleep state.” He was even able to say "amen" to something our Pastor said to him. I stayed by his side nearly every moment that day, holding his hand, and saying things now and then. When I told him I would love him forever, he squeezed my hand with what strength he had and I knew he was saying that he loved me, too.
That night, approximately twenty-four hours from the beginning of this story, when it was time for bed, I let him know that I was going to lay down for a bit but I was going to skoot the futon a bit closer than normal to his hospital bed and that I would be right there, as close as I could be. Then, I took his Bible and read Psalm 23 to him. I also told him that I’d found a note, tucked away in his Bible, that I’d written to him when we were dating. In the note, I wrote that seeing him happy makes me happy; and, in person that night, I told him I still feel the same way. I told him that I wanted him to be healed and stay with me, and I told him that I had asked God to make it so; but, if that was not part of God’s plan I was submitted to it and I would be okay. I also let Matt know that if, perhaps, the Lord would give him the choice of whether to stay or go and if, perhaps, now, after nearly twenty-four hours of being in a special realm I have not yet experienced, Matt decided that he wanted to go on to be with the Lord, I would completely understand. I also promised that I would not let his story go untold. I knew he still had so much he wanted to say and I knew it was worth saying.
Finally, I kissed him on the forehead and reiterated that I would be right there beside him. From the time I laid down to the time my alarm went off to give him more pain medication, 38 minutes passed. Within that time, Matthew Wayne Hylton completed his departure from this life and went on to a wonderful, glorious eternity with his Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
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