Have you ever met an angel? Do you believe in such things? Well, I have, and I do. My encounter occurred on a very notable date: November 22nd. The year was 2003. Most people, when they hear that date, think to themselves: that’s the day that President Kennedy was assassinated. For me, that date has a more personal significance. It’s the day that my best friend from middle school died. It is also the day, when one year later, I met Mattie "J. T." Stepanek, a poet and a peacemaker.
As with every story one tells, there is always a back story that holds the key to the miracles we experience in our lives. I also believe in those, but I’m a realist, you see. I prescribe to that particular philosophy of Anwar Sadat’s, another peacemaker, who said "you’re not a realist unless you believe in miracles." But, I digress...
For a number of years, my husband and I lived in the suburbs of Washington, D.C., just outside the city of Rockville, Maryland. Tom received his master’s degree in special education from the University of Maryland at College Park, where Jeni Stepanek also earned her doctoral degree in early childhood special education. I’ll never forget the evening that Tom came home and said that he’d had the most amazing afternoon, because he had seen Mattie wheeling down the halls of the Benjamin Building.
"Hi! You’re Mattie, right?" he asked, surprised to see him there.
"Yep!" he replied, good-natured with his mega smile as he sped on down the hall in his wheelchair, with a seemingly intended and important purpose on his mind.
Jealousy is not an attractive trait, but in my husband’s telling of that moment, I felt a tinge of it. I’d always admired this young man who had the insights and intellect of a wise, old sage manifested in the body of this affable pre-teen. I would have very much liked to have had the opportunity to say hello to him as he wheeled down the halls of the Benjamin Building.
So, imagine my delight when my husband, who worked part-time, during those college years, at Borders Books and Music/Germantown, Maryland, came home one night in the autumn of 2003 and told me that Mattie was going to be at a book signing there on Saturday, November 22nd. I looked at him and gulped. He knew the significance of that day.
"Do you want to go?" he asked me.
I remember feeling tears come to my eyes. "Do I want to go?" I repeated, laughing. "Boy, do I!" Then, I remember feeling something intense that came over me when I looked at Tom and expressed the profound thought that was running through my mind: "What are the odds?"
He gave me a hug of understanding, then we anxiously awaited the book-signing.
Saturday, November 22, 2003 was a beautiful, crisp, cool autumn day. It was a far cry from the previous year when the day was gray and dismally chilled – the foreshadowing of the noon phone call I would get from my mother telling me that Sheri had passed. The remainder of that day was spent in sorrowful reflection with a lot of shed tears for my friend who had died far too young at the age of 38. However, the first anniversary of that sad day dawned with bright sunshine and the excited anticipation of something wonderful about to happen.
We arrived early, and I looked through Mattie’s books of Heartsongs, picking out about 10 that I wanted to give as Christmas gifts that year for special people: Sheri’s mother; her father; her daughter and husband; me and a few other friends. I, then, got in the line, relatively close to the signing table, holding my stack of Heartsongs when one of the employees discretely came through the line and asked everyone to limit the number of books we asked Mattie to sign to one or two, so he wouldn’t easily tire. Of course we should do that! Absolutely!
Still, my eyes widened like saucers and my mouth hung agape as I looked to my husband for input as to who would win "the lottery" of a signed book of Mattie’s on, of all days, that first anniversary of Sheri’s passing? Of course Sheri’s daughter, Aliya, would receive one. Yet, which parent would I choose to give the other book? Sheri was close to both of her parents who had been divorced for a number of years. I felt, suddenly, sick as I stood in the line trying to decide who would get the special remembrance.
"Maybe he’ll sign two for you and two for me. That way, both parents are covered as is Aliya and we’ll get a book signed for you," Tom suggested. "The other six will be gift enough."
I hesitated. "Would they let us do that?"
"We won’t know unless we ask," he told me. "Besides, I think if he knows what this day is, he might make this exception for you."
I didn’t like being an exception to rules. Other people look at you funny; some glare; others want to know who you are that you got some special treatment that didn’t apply to them? However, in this case, if it allowed me to get those four meaningful books signed, then I would be the exception to my rule of not liking to be the exception to rules. I stepped in front of Tom and waited for my turn with Mattie.
Meeting this young man was as magical as I thought it would be. He was very engaging, focused and interested in what each person said to him. I told him how lovely it was to meet him on a day that, one year prior, had been such a sad one for me. Like a gentle therapist, he looked at me curiously and politely asked if I wouldn’t mind telling him what had happened a year earlier. I told him all about Sheri. He listened intently, expressing his condolences. Then, he spoke of loss and mentioned his sister, Katie, and his two brothers, Stevie and Jamie. None of them lived to be older than three. He mentioned the sadness of that as it related to his life, but looked at me and said, "you know, death is only the beginning of so many wonderful things that we can’t even imagine, but I know it’s beautiful. I’m sure your friend is there where beautiful things are happening."
I stood before him and wondered how this child had such words of consolation to offer a 40 year old woman? He spoke with a calm certainty. His words were comforting, and I felt that I was in the presence of something greater than just a 13 year-old young man. [And, I was!] To tell you how special Mattie Stepanek was, he signed all 10 of my books, over my protest.
"You bought them for special people," he noted. "I’m sure you would like to have them signed."
"Yes," I agreed. "But I don’t want to tire you out," I told him. "You have lots of books to sign today!" I added, glancing back at the long line of people patiently waiting their turn to spend a moment with him.
He smiled and assured me it would be alright as he signed each one. "Who is this one for?" he asked with genuine interest.
He seemed pleased and curious to hear a little about the intended recipient of one of his books. When he got to the last one, he asked who he should sign it to, and I told him I didn’t know yet, but it was for someone very special. I asked if he would just sign his name and date it? He smiled, understanding my sentiment. He seemed to both like and appreciate that I had a feeling of a connection that I’d not yet made, but knew was out there. It would be a special connection for me – for whom that date was significant. He was an amazing, gracious, funny, eloquent, young man. I was enthralled by him.
As I left him, I squeezed his hand gently and thanked him. I told him he didn’t know how much it had meant for me to meet him. He smiled and said that it had meant a lot to him as well. "Oh, Jhill!" he called. I turned back wondering if I had left one of my books behind in all the excitement of the moment. He pointed to me and smiled as he reminded me of his philosophy. "Don’t forget to play after every rainstorm!"
I laughed with him and assured. "I won’t Mattie! I promise!" Then, I walked out of that place feeling like I’d been in the presence of something so pure and reverent that it gave me pause. I had never felt anything like it before.
"I think we were just in the company of an angel," I told Tom in complete seriousness.
"He’s quiet a special young man!" my husband agreed.
I felt a peace come to me when we left with all of our signed treasures. It did not leave me for days. It was a full-circle, profound experience - the five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes that had spanned from one November 22nd to the next. It’s true that sorrow, given time, can move into a joy of sorts, if we are open to it. It was a joyful day when I met Mattie Stepanek.
Needless to say, my Christmas gifts were a hit that year because of the magnificent story that accompanied it. It truly was a gift of love....from the writing of the poems to the story of how it came to be purchased, to the signing of each book and the conversation that went on in between all of those significant details. Everyone who received one of them treasure it like I had hoped. I think that everyone who ever came in contact with Mattie "J. T." Stepanek or who was touched by him in some way, knows how priceless the moments spent with him were. I think those who received the gift by that small degree of separation know it as well.
It was with a heavy sadness that my husband and I listened to the news on June 22, 2004 and learned that Mattie had finally gone to join his brothers and sister. We hugged each other and cried, not because we were sad for Mattie, he had started another beginning in the continuum of life and life beyond, in that beautiful place that he’d told me about the year prior. We cried because something magical and loving and rare had left us with his passing. It was a loss. No matter how you looked at it, Mattie’s departure was a loss for the rest of us. How fortunate, however, we were to have glimpsed, for the briefest moment, the amazing grace that was Mattie "J. T." Stepanek, and been in the presence of it.
The world learned a lot from this young man who came and went like a shooting star. For me, he was an angel here on earth. He wasn’t solely a peacemaker. He was one of the most brilliant, splendid, magnificent ideas to come from God. We [the world] were blessed to have seen his light for the13 years that he was here! He did in that short span of time what most people don’t accomplish in an entire lifetime. Still, his song goes on, kept alive by all who were blessed to have been touched by him in some capacity.
Whenever I see a rainstorm, I think of Mattie. I don’t always play after them, because I, myself, am disabled now, and I think he’d give me a pass because of that, but they make me pause and think of him – the gift he was to this world – the gift he is wherever he is now. I’ll always cherish those few moments I got to spend with him on that crisp, autumn day, when he offered words of comfort and encouragement to a woman old enough to have been his mother. I still remember them to this day. If it’s true that an angel is just an idea of God, on that day in the fall of 2003, God’s thoughts were never more beautiful....
©Written by Jhill Perran
June 22, 2011
In remembrance of Matthew Joseph Thaddeus Stepanek
July 17, 1990 – June 22, 2004
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