January 6, 2009 - Matthew Clair Worton

Thirty three years ago today, my younger brother passed away. Born on December 19, 1975 and named after both grandfathers, he was only nineteen days old when he returned to our Heavenly Father. Matthew was the first son, after three girls, to our parents and his arrival was greatly anticipated by all. I was five and remember the family home evening when we cleaned and prepared his bassinet. Each of the Worton kids and grandkids used the same white wicker bassinet.

With kidney difficulties, he underwent major surgeries; however, he was able to come home for a short time with our family. I remember one evening, at dinnertime, wheeling the bassinet out to the dinner table. I can’t remember if he was fussy (we didn’t have portable car seats, bouncers, or swings back then) or if we simply wanted him in the same room with us, but we ate dinner with him next to the table. His death was shocking to our family.

On the 6th of January, my parents went back to the hospital and found an empty room. The hospital staff did not warn them, they simply walked in and wondered if he had been transferred. I cannot imagine the heartbreaking pain that they experienced. Mom has said several times that folks just did not talk much about their sufferings then. You simply and quietly went on.

I have often thought about how this experience has changed our family. Did it alter the how my parents felt when their next child, a son, was born two years later? How did it affect their interactions with their three daughters then and the additional three children that followed? I would suggest that their gratitude deepened, while at the same time their sorrow increased. The three youngest Worton kids did not have the opportunity to meet Matthew in this life, regardless, his position in our family has helped us all become closer, I believe. Our Ben is named after him (Mathew Benjamin Caillier) and when I use his full name I often connect to his namesake. The good news for our Ben is that this is usually when he is caught in mischief. It might be said that his uncle can intervene on his behalf from the other side of the veil. (Picture is of Ben in the Worton bassinet.)

Interestingly, a few weeks ago, Emma said “Mom, I miss my uncle Matthew”. I thought she meant her Uncle Matt (Maria’s husband) and suggested she call him. “No Mom, my other Uncle Matthew. You know, the one who is with Heavenly Father”. Whether we know him from this side or the other, we are grateful for the connection to Matthew.