Chapter 20
by Cindy Haller
I have been blessed with several Purple Papers, all of them alive with messages from my son Matthew, who now lives in the spiritual realm. Each Purple Paper is significant, personal and precious, validation of life beyond and boundless, eternally endless love. Many of these papers have Matthew’s name written on them, inked into immortality by my son through Roland’s gifted hand. Some come with personal messages that only I would understand. Others reveal personal private issues. I have chosen to write about those Purple Paper messages that can be easily validated, in part because I want potential naysayers to say nay no more. Spiritual communications are an important part of life, the very essence of love. I wouldn’t want to deny anyone, believer or not, the beauty and bounty of these missives. They are real and are precious testament to the bonds shared and intact between heaven and earth.
This is Matthew’s story.
He was born on March 27, 1984. He left this world on April 12, 2007. He was twenty-three years young.
Matthew came into our lives and hearts nine and a half years after our daughter, Jessica, was born. He was our blessing and a joy to our community of friends. In a sense, he was everyone’s baby, but especially to his sister. She adored him as he did her. Matthew was blessed with intelligence, good looks, a beautiful smile, and a sense of humor. Unfortunately, he was not given the opportunity to reach all of his potential as he tragically lost his life in his early twenties. We experienced a parent’s worst nightmare coming true.
Although this is a difficult story to tell and read, it is important to do so. It is about a life gone too soon.
On April 11, 2007, I returned to Naples, Florida, from Chicago. My husband, Tim, remained in Chicago. Matthew was living with us.
The last time I saw Matthew was that afternoon when he changed into his dress clothes for work. He was riding his motorcycle to work because he had left our car at a friend’s house. Our last words to each other went like this:
“Matthew, you know how Dad and I feel about you riding the motorcycle at night,” I said.
“Don’t worry, Mom. If I go out tonight, I will take the car,” he replied.
As I watch him walk out the door, I said, “You can’t see yourself from the back, but you look mighty fine.”
On April 12, 2007, I was awakened in the middle of the night to the police at our front door. Matthew was shot, they informed me, in our car.
I have lived with the “if only” ever since. “If only Matthew had been on his motorcycle, he could have driven away.”
I immediately needed to know that Matthew still existed and was OK. I sought out mediums. Through the messages I have received, I know that while he is no longer alive in the flesh, he is always with me in spirit.
Matthew never lets an opportunity to get a message to me go by, especially through Roland. I am blessed to have eight Purple Paper messages from him, each providing me with reassurance that he continues to be present in our lives.
The Purple Paper dated February 3, 2015, has important validations that our son lives on in spirit:
“Mom, I’ll always be your ‘smile.’ ” Matthew was always known for his beautiful, endearing smile. I smiled when I read it and still do.
“When I passed at 23 years old, you (passed) (in your heart) too.” He was 23 when he died, and, yes, a huge part of me stopped living that day too.
“I love being near the water with you.” Matthew’s father and I spend the winters in Florida. On Matthew’s angel day, April 12, we go the beach house with his photo. I always wear his blue plaid shirt, and we release blue balloons, his favorite color.
“Sometimes when you’re quiet, you can hear me. But, it’s really hard for you to get quiet.” I often talk with Matthew silently in my thoughts. But it is hard for me to get quiet! So true!
“I’m glad you’re still here (earth) and me (heaven) because you are really needed.”
My Purple Paper dated June 6, 2016, was brief, but powerful.
It started with “Hey, Mom. It’s me, ‘Matt,’ ‘Matty,’ ‘Matthew.’ ” I can’t express how hearing and seeing these three names touched my heart. Yes, our son was called Matt, Matty, and Matthew by all who knew him. I always called him Matthew.
“I am so alive here. Stop worrying.” Yes, I have worried, asking myself again and again, does Matthew still exist? Who is he as a spiritual self? Is he OK?
“I’m still your boy.” It is so important to have this reassurance. Over and over, I have cried, “I still want Matthew to be my son,” even when I cross over.
My Purple Paper dated January 28, 2017, addressed my persistent concerns about how he passed. Was he scared? Did he suffer?
“Mom, please (from this day forward), don’t be in pain about how I passed. I wasn’t afraid at all. No pain … no pain … You’re strong … You’ve always been.”
Always sensitive to others, he was trying to release me from the worry about how he passed, how he was murdered.
“I’m still your boy with a big smile.”
I have pleaded with a broken heart that Matthew is still my son, my boy. And he was always known for his big beautiful smile.
“I was sitting with [you] this first week of October.” My birthday is October 7, the first week of October. Knowing that he is there with me on my special day is the best gift I could ever receive.
Another special Purple Paper from January 23, 2014, read, “Mom, you always made my life perfect. I will always be your son. I saw the angels near me when I passed. I saw Grandma too. I love you for always trying to make it right for me. Look for the (heart). Matthew.”
A second one from the same day showed these meaningful words: “Mom, it’s me standing with you when you’re home alone. I know every day you ask me to be here … I’m there. I give you HUGS and SMILES all the time. Yes, I watch over my sister … I promise.”
