On April 13, 2024, it will be one year since Joe Matthews died. It was a very quiet, unobtrusive death. There was Joe doing what he loved to do, aquajogging quietly in his heated pool on a sunny Florida spring day. Without a cry, without a whisper, Joe simply slumped over and passed into the Eternal Now. Like “Ol’ black Joe”, ol’ white Joe, “went to a better world I know” as Stephen Foster sang. We all hated his going, but Joe must have loved it. For years he would express over and over again how fearful and anxious he was about dying. Nobody could console him on how he needn’t worry, because God, the angels, and all his loved ones and friends were waiting to greet him. Joe believed that, but he still was very, very anxious. So at that fateful moment when he passed away, his last exhale had to be a sigh of relief when he felt how easy it was to let all the fears, worries, and anxieties go. Now it’s you and me, anxious about our own deaths, wishing “We could go like Joe.”
This past year, we have thought a lot about Joe. For some of us, there has been a huge change in our lives. Of course, we missed Joe, but much more we missed who we used to be with Joe. We missed the meals, the celebrations, and the emails he wrote. I missed the golf rounds I played and the lunches after golf. We missed the questions he asked and the laughs we had over the answers. But we missed the person we used to be when Joe called us out of our emptiness into a fullness that he brought forth in us by his attention to us.
Joe and I loved talking about David Brooks, the NY Times columnist that we read twice a week. We always discussed Brooks’ latest article whenever we met. It’s amazing how many really fruitful conversations we had over Brooks’ writings. So just last week I was very impressed when David wrote an article, mostly drawn from his latest book, about persons we have loved in our lives whom we were so happy to be with. They were men and women whom we always looked forward to meeting because they were interested in us, rather than in themselves. We always enjoyed the way they asked us questions about ourselves and the things we were interested in. Immediately, I thought of Joe. Brooks was describing the effect that Joe had on everybody he met. It may not have been a major encounter. It could only be the golf pro who signed us in for Friday Golf, but he clearly looked forward to hearing what Joe had to say about him every time. The same was true of the checkout people at the supermarkets and the waitresses in the restaurants. Why was everybody so thrilled to see Joe coming? He somehow made everybody feel special.
Very few of us will ever be like Joe. He was special, and we are very fortunate to have had him in our lives. But I have noticed over the past year that there is a change in me. I somehow find myself unconsciously trying to treat people as Joe did. I’m not that good at it, but I unconsciously find myself channeling Joe. I look at people from their point of view, not from my point of view. I try to get them to talk about what they are interested in, rather than tell them what I am interested in. Maybe Joe is having his way with us in his good old-fashioned way. I know I assure everybody who asks, that Joe is resting in peace. It’s we who need to rest in peace. Right now we are still pretty much in pieces over Joe. Amen.
Sal Umana 