Obituary of Matthew B. Sanborn

In Memoriam My beautiful son, Matthew Bruce Sanborn,left this world on January 31, 2012. He was forty-two years old. He died doing what he loved: mountain biking, on a trail in Montecito. My husband, David, and I walked down to the beach this morning â€" to be close to Matt â€" to feel him…I wanted to write something about him â€" to acknowledge what I, his mother, knew of him. I had his hat from Jackson Hole shielding my eyes from the sun. I put my feet in the water and heard him say, ‘Oh you sissy, it’s not cold.’ The sound of the waves, the sparklingwater, the smell of the beach, a recalming and healing to me right now.So, I’d like to ask you all to take amoment and close your eyes. Picture Matt in your mind’s eye. Okay. Open. I bet he was smiling, right? I hope you always hold that imageof him in your heart â€" that expression of happiness, joy, sense of adventure, humor â€" the willingness to take a risk, to dare â€" that was Matt. He embodied the qualities we hold up as the best of being human: heart, cour-age, compassion; what the Buddhists call loving kindness. He was also the best boyfriend in the world. I got that straight from Stacy â€"she told me so herself! He was brave enough to be vulnerable â€" strong enoughto be protective. I believe if a man loves his mother, he has the capacity to love a woman and treat her well. Matt loved me so much! And I him.When he spoke at my and David’s wedding three years ago, he said I was his best friend. I never could have believed I would be speaking at a memorial service for him. Matt loved his family and was never happier than when we were all togetherâ€" especially when his brother, Eric, and Kendre’s children, Andrew, Emily, andClaira, were around â€" then he could really let loose and play!He loved Bump and Nan â€" was heartbroken when Bump left this world â€" and I know that Bump was the first to welcome him home. Matt loved Stacy. And she loved him. Those two beautiful people had plans and we are all at a loss not to see them live it out. And Matt loved the outdoors: skiing, biking, ice hockey, rollerblading â€" and he had such grace and alignment with himself doing it. He loved deep-sea diving, the beach and the mountains, the Bruins, the Red Sox, the Celtics â€" he loved people and connection and conversation. He loved life! His name, Matthew, meant Gift of God â€" and he was. I was so proud to be his mother. I watched him face his life, the triumphs and the suffering â€" and despite the dazzling smile, he bore deep suffering. C.G. Jung said that suffering carves out the soul â€" and Matt’s soul was very large.From his birth, May 3, 1969 in Massachusetts, to his final thrilling ride, January 31, 2012 at Cold Spring Trail in his beloved Santa Barbara, he had a great one! ture he was close to God .I know, without a doubt, that he left this physical world in a moment of pure perfection â€" he was in love â€"he knew his was loved â€" five minutes from the trailhead, joy endorphins were coursing through his blood. He had a sense of accomplishment from finessing his way down the mountain’s rocky trail so he could get home to his love, Stacy, who was waiting. We don’t know another’s Soul’sPath, their contract with God. Iwould have wanted him longer, but it wasn’t my decision. I accept and honor his decision to leave, howand when he did, and say, Go Matt Go! Donations in Matt’s name can be made to Rancho Sordo Mudo(RanchoSordoMudo.org) through Hope Community Church 560 N. LaCumbre. To An Athlete Dying Young: The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering b, And home we brought you shoulder-high...Smart lad, to slip betimes awayFrom fields where glory does not stayAnd early though the laurel growsIt withers quicker than the rose...Now you will not swell the routOf lads that wore their honours out,Runners whom renown outranAnd the name died before the man...And round that early-laurelled headWill flock to gaze the strengthless dead,And find unwithered on its curls The garland briefer than a girl’s. â€" A.E. Housman (1859-1936) Now take back the soul of MatthewBruce Sanborn whom You have sharedwith us. He brought us joy... we lovedhim well. He was not ours. He was not mine.