Remember, Remember, The 8th Of December...

As I tilt my head back, and look upwards towards the sky, through the holes in the clouds I can see stars shining through. They are hung limitlessly high, and dazzle with a sparkle unmatched. It is when I return my gaze downward, that the limitless low of grief settles deep within. Not even the cold night air invading its way to my bones can break my despondent attire. For the first time in sixty-eight-years, sixty-nine-now, this world is without Joan. I am without mom… She’s gone… Pain took her, and now pain holds me. It pulls the corners of my lips down so as to refuse a smile. It claws at the corners of my eyes, making them sad. It dances in front of me, mocking me with images that I wish were real. All they are though, are dreams left to be dreamt, and never to be realized. For the reality is, my mom, and the mom to my brothers and sisters, is dead. Only memories and wishful thinking remains. And wish, I do…

The only thing that the winter’s night air can touch, or at least make me feel, is the bitter slap against my tear stained cheeks. Only one or two tears have fallen. Nothing continuous, but stained they are. My heart bleeds and my eyes leak. My mind wanders in search of my mom, yet reality keeps her from touch. I close my eyes I can see her. If I listen hard enough, I can hear her. But when I open my eyes and retrain my hearing, all I am confronted with is empty space and the static of nothing. The absence of anything. The world is still here, and she is not. I am supposed to recite ‘happy birthday’, but to whom? She’s gone. This world and the hard life she led, took her from us. Took her from me, the youngest bird to flee the nest…

I stare at the empty chair beside me, and try to put her there. For one more chance to share a laugh, or even just a giggle. But mostly, for one last chance to say “Mum, I love you”. All I end up saying though, to an empty space, is: “Mum, I miss you… I gotta do this world alone… and this world’s been hurtin’ me for a while now. I’m scared. Mum, I miss you…”

This world has two parts; limitless high’s, and bottomless low’s. Stars and despair. Breaks in the clouds, or sprawling grey’s resting upon the horizon.

Tonight, well, tonight, I don’t see many stars… Just the absence of anything.

Hello,

I’m Matthew

Welcome to the Unfiltered Mind of Matthew Heneghan.

I’m a former Canadian Armed Forces medic (1 Field Ambulance) and civilian paramedic who traded the siren for the pen. After fifteen years on the front lines and a diagnosis of PTSD, I realized that the only way out of the wreckage was through the story.

I am the author of A Medic’s Mind and Trauma and Tea, and the host of the podcast MatthewHeneghan: Unfiltered. This blog is my “fuck you” to the hustle—a space to breathe between the plays and find the magic in the quiet, grit-covered moments of trauma recovery, veteran advocacy, and resilience.

If you’re tired of the “paper value” of society and looking for real-life stories on hitting rock bottom and climbing back up, you’re in the right place. Explore the archives, hear the podcast, and let’s find the space to breathe together.