Our Story

Our Story

In October of 2019, my father, Matthew, passed away from septic shock. Septic shock is when the whole body reacts to an infection. At the end of 2018, my dad had his first amputation. Over time, he kept on having more, with a result of one leg being amputated below his knee, and his other leg being amputated above the knee. His amputations had caused the infection. 

Matthew was a son, a dad, an uncle, and also the greatest pinball player I’d ever seen. Matt left behind his high school sweetheart, 3 kids, his mom, his sister, 5 nieces and nephews, and many more who loved him. Growing up with my dad, our house was filled with laughter, love, and joy each day. He loved taking us kids to Cape Cod, taking my sister and I to the Pintastic Pinball Convention, watching all types of Boston sports, but most of all, doing anything that involved his family. My dad often took our family to the movie theaters too. He loved all types of action movies, Indiana Jones, Marvel, DC, and X-men. 

When Matt had his first amputation, he was in a wheelchair but had been working hard in physical therapy with his prosthetic leg. But once he had his other leg amputated, it created a setback. This meant that he’d be in the wheelchair for longer than we’d thought at first. We had to put a ramp onto the back door of the house. For Father’s Day in 2019, our family and some friends built a concrete patio in the backyard for him so he could still come outside and spend time with us kids. Even though our hands became filled with blisters, we would all do it again for him in an instant. 

However, it wasn’t an easy transition when his amputations happened. My mom was working hard to help take care of my dad, us kids, and herself. There were nights when he was in more pain than others. Phantom pain was something that made him think that his legs were still there but weren’t. We had occupational and physical therapists at our house often to help him regain mobility. 

Although I had only been 10 years old at the time and didn’t understand much of it, I mainly remember all of the days where my family would spend time at his rehab hospital with him to eat dinner altogether, opening our Christmas gifts, tell him about our sports games, school, anything he’d missed out on during the week. 

I still remember the morning my mom told us he’d passed. It was the worst news I’d ever heard. Sitting in my cousin’s living room and seeing the faces of my mom, my 4-year-old brother, my 13-year-old sister, cousins, aunt and uncle, is something I’ll never forget. Every family event after that didn’t feel normal. Our home just felt like a house. His seat was empty at the dinner table. The first trip back to the movie theaters felt weird too. I saw the first “Frozen” movie with my mom, dad, and sister. We were back at the movies 7 years later seeing “Frozen 2” without him. It had been a movie we’d been talking about seeing at the dinner table for months at the time. Even though “it’s just a movie”, it really wasn’t. It became the first part of having to move on.

As I’ve grown up, I’ve learned that I want to help people who have similar stories to my dad. I want to help other amputees succeed in their care because my dad never got the chance to finish his. This year, will be his 6-year passing anniversary. Although I don’t remember what the last thing I said to him was, I just hope it was “I love you and I’ll see you someday soon”.