Matty's Mission

Matty would give you his last dollar if you needed it. Or a pair of shoes for your feet. Whenever his dad, Garry, needed new thongs he'd buy two pairs because Matty would walk out the door and put them on, and they'd often end up with someone else who needed them more.

I had the absolute good fortune to be camped next to Matty's mum, Karen Gibbs, and her family when we were in Cooktown. Caravan parks can be strange little communities where often fellow campers will only come over and have a chat when you're packing up to leave (there's a thesis in that for someone). But soon after I'd arrived and set up, Karen and I were deep in conversation about everything from gun control to why Labradors make good travel companions. Karen's one of those people who has a knack for getting you talking. And it's clear that connecting with other people is important to her. When Karen told me about her son, Matty, I started understand why.

Matty had struggled with depression, anxiety and addiction, first with cannabis and then alcohol, since his late teens. But while he battled own demons, Matty's focus was always on helping other people. He could spot the one person in a crowded room who was having a hard time and would make a point of connecting with them and doing what he could to help. That's was who Matty was.

When he was approaching his 30s Matty was tired of the endless cycle of depression, anxiety and self medicating with alcohol. He wanted to turn his life around and made the decision to go to rehab to help him recover. He was excited and positive about moving forward with his life and devised a project to help himself, and five other people with similar problems, by taking them on a kayaking and fishing adventure. He firmly believed that the key to recovery was connection and adventure. He started planning for the project and looked for sponsors, telling them "If I can help even one person, then my suffering has not been in vain." Energised by his plan to undertake this adventure, and feeling positive about his future, Matty checked into a rehab facility. As his dad was driving him to the train they passed Karen driving the other way on her way back from babysitting one of her grandchildren. Matty waved at Karen and blew kisses as the two cars passed each other. That was the last time Karen saw Matty.

Eager to get on with his new life, he felt claustrophobic in rehab and just wanted to move forward and get back to work. So Matty checked himself out of rehab before the program had finished. And while he felt in a good place with his mental health, he was far from well. Several days after leaving rehab, chronically sleep deprived and in physical pain, Matty finally settled into a deep sleep in the back of a car while waiting for a friend. Sadly, that's where he died, in his sleep from natural causes. Matty was 31.

That was six years ago and Karen can almost talk about Matty's death without shedding a tear. Almost. When she described the harrowing details of that day when the police came to tell her that Matty had died, the depth of her grief and shock was still palpable after all these years later. Beneath the engaging, cheeky, kind and lively exterior there's a sadness that will always be there. Karen is a woman of deep faith and believes it's this that kept her going in the 20 months of profound, all-consuming, heart-breaking grief she felt following Matty's death.

When the fog finally started to lift Karen was driven by the need to fulfil Matty's mission. We both laughed at the thought of Karen paddling a kayak down a raging river and hauling in a massive barramundi. Suffice to say Karen and I are of a similar age and physical ability so clearly she'd have to find a gentler way to continue Matty's legacy.

Matty loved to journal and had left behind boxes of his writing, scribbled on napkins, receipts and any other scrap of paper he could find when he needed to write. So Karen gathered all of Matty's journals - his thoughts, reflections, poems, ideas, dreams - and set about writing two books designed to help people who suffer in the same way Matty did. It's her way of continuing Matty's mission to help anyone he could in whatever way he could.

The first book Stop the Downward Spiral is a gentle, practical guide for sufferers of depression and anxiety, and for the people who support them. The second, Your Pocket Coach, is a pocket-sized book intended to encourage journaling; something that helped Matty with his own struggles. Both books have been published, the first being a number one bestseller in seven categories when released on Amazon. But Matty's mission doesn't stop there. Karen has a supply of her books in the back of the car and as they travel around country with their van, she'll leave a copy in the caravan park library or camp kitchen. Just in case someone needs a bit of help.

And when she's not travelling, she's putting together homeless kits (something Matty started) containing whatever she can gather that might help someone in need, and always with a $5 note tucked inside. Karen also runs groups and Facebook forums for women who need support for all sorts of reasons.

I wish I'd met Matty. He sounds like one of those people who makes a lasting impression on your life, no matter how fleeting your interaction with him. I reckon he'd be pretty proud that Karen's continuing his legacy in such a meaningful way. There's obviously a lot more to this story than I can re-tell in this short post. And if I tried, I wouldn't do justice to Matty's spirit; nor to Karen's immeasurable courage, strength and kindness.

Karen invited me to tag along with her and her delightful family when we left Cooktown, as we were all heading in the same direction, and it's been an absolute pleasure to spend the past few days in their company. Here's a photo of Karen, Garry, their son Dan and his lovely family, taken at our camp in Mareeba; and another of Karen's lovely grandsons, Cody and Harry, as they bid farewell to the Labs.