Beauty on the Ice

Over the years, nothing brought me greater joy than watching my boys play the game they love, hockey. Matthew started playing at around the age of 5 and never looked back. At that age, they all got to have a turn playing in goal. They want all the players to experience each position so they can see where they want to play. Not too many kids were thrilled with having pucks shot at them, but Matthew loved it. Eventually, every time it was someone else’s turn and they said “no thanks,” Matthew would say “yes please!” The love he has for the game is still deep within him, and he is now playing at the college level. Noah actually played soccer from about the age of 5, until the age of 9, when he decided he wanted to try the sport. We were thrilled for him, but not for our wallets! We already had a goalie, and goalie gear is expensive…….but thankfully Noah wanted to be a player. He became a defenceman.

Try to picture a child that is taller than most, trying to skate. He really was like Bambi on the ice, but eventually he got the hang of it, and the love bug of hockey caught him too. Noah grew fast and he was always tall for his age. In many sports, height is an advantage, but for Noah it was more often a hindrance than a help. With skates on, most of the other player’s heads were at his elbow height, so he certainly got his share of penalties and spent quite a bit of time in the “bad boy box” or the “sin bin.” I remember a time when he questioned whether he should continue playing because it caused him so much frustration. As the years went on, he got a reputation (not truly earned) as being a goon. Someone reported him to the governing body of minor hockey, and because of this they actually sent someone out to “watch this goon.” During the game that their observer was watching, he did knock or check someone down, and what does he do? He offers his hand to help the player back up. That is who he was. Was I offended that they sent someone to observe him? Absolutely not, because out of that I earned a beautiful friend, who was the one sent to observe, who is still standing beside me through my grief. A friend that knew the type of person Noah was from watching him play one game.

As the years went on, the boys were fortunate enough to get to play together in their early adult years. I am forever grateful that they got to share the love of the game together, on the ice. The hockey bond was a beautiful thing.

Since Noah passed, Matthew made a promise to him to live his life the way he knows Noah would expect him to, to the fullest. Matthew has being doing that since October 4, 2018.

A couple of weeks ago, Matthew had a hockey game against the top team in their division, a team that his school has never defeated. They actually had 2 games, back to back nights. The first game, they lost 7-0. The next night, it was Matthew’s turn in net. Lucky for us, we can watch the games on YouTube on our television, so Rick and I settled in to watch. We had no grandiose expectations, we just love to watch Matthew play.

For the first time, in a long time, I felt like I use to when I would watch him play a game. My stomach was in knots, and I felt very nervous, my hands clammy. I even told Rick that I was feeling this way, not sure why. I spent the evening watching, cheering out loud in my living room, and counting down the seconds to the end of the game. Matthew’s team played outstanding, as did he.

So after 40 minutes, we are finally in the third period. Fast forward to the last 12 seconds of the game. A time out is called. Both teams go to their respective benches, except Matthew. I remember thinking how strange that was, because he always goes to the bench when a time out is called. The camera is on him the entire time, and I can’t help but just stare at him in his net. He is in his crease, bent over at the waist, with his hands on his knees, head down. Not once does he look up. He stays in that position for the entire time out. While I am watching him, not blinking, tears start rolling down my cheeks. I know exactly what he is doing. He is talking to his brother. He is asking him to be with him for these last 12 seconds. He is asking him to help him keep the puck out of the net. He is asking him to help him see the puck. You see, we are winning, 3-2 and there are only 12 seconds left in the game, and the other team has pulled their goalie. These 12 seconds need to be Matthew’s best 12 seconds.

Through tears, I see the teams come to the faceoff circle in Matthew’s end. I am now watching the clock, and watching the movement on the ice. I am counting them in my head, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1! We won! We just beat the top team in their division! Matthew stopped 57 of 59 shots! I am sitting in my chair, crying. I am crying because I know what happened in those 12 seconds. I know Noah was in the net with his brother. I know he heard him asking for his help. I saw the bond and love of the game the two of them shared in those 12 seconds. I know that Noah was telling Matthew to “close the door” as I would tell Matthew to do. I know Noah was so proud of his brother.

I spoke to Matthew after the game, and I asked him what he was doing in that last time out. “I was talking to Noah, mom.” “I knew you were my boy,” I replied.

The bond between those two will never fade, will never be broken. As parents, we need to nurture that connection within our children. We have a responsibility to them to do this, because in the normal life cycle that we hope all our children will have, they will need each other. As their parents age and eventually pass on, they will call on each other for the strength, love and support. Although Matthew will not have the “normal life cycle” with his brother here on earth, he still has such a strong connection with him, that he knows Noah will always be there for him, and Matthew can call on him, anytime.