Living

His laughter can be heard from down the hallway. Many see him as the life of the classroom. He’s a Physical Science and Principles of Biomedical Studies teacher by day, and a father of two and a husband by night. But Matthew Riffee is also known by a unique facial feature: His beard. Long, thick, with specks of gray embedded in the otherwise dark hair.

For years, Riffee had a two-week routine for shaving. Head. Beard. Neck. Every two weeks, he got rid of his facial hair using clippers with no guard. But in April 2014, Riffee decided that he would stop wasting energy on insignificant routines and channeling his energy towards more meaningful tasks in his life. To Riffee, shaving no longer became a necessity.

“I hated shaving, so I don’t do it anymore, and it’s awesome,” Riffee said, “It looks awesome.”

Behind the simple decision, however, is an experience close to his heart that inspired him to make this change.

Remembering

April 2, 2014. It was a Wednesday morning, and at 1:30 a.m., the ringing of the phone broke the silence. Riffee would soon learn that this one phone call would change his life forever.

“It was from the police; they said someone from your house needs to come and be with your mother-in-law, but they wouldn’t tell us what was wrong,” Riffee said.

Later, a call to his father-in-law, who was out of town at the time, confirmed that Riffee’s brother-in-law of nine years, Christopher Meyer, had taken his own life. Riffee and his wife immediately went to comfort his mother in law.

“He told us, you need to go over there, Christopher has killed himself,” Riffee said.

Emotions flooded Riffee’s mind as he let the painful news slowly cut into him. Disbelief. Extreme uncontrollable sadness. Inability to think straight. Arriving at Christopher’s house, the helplessness he felt could not be described.

“My mind was blank,” Riffee said. “But at the same time, it was racing in a million different directions. What hurt the most was knowing you can’t do anything.”

Christopher had taken his life on his own birthday. The events of the past 24 hours replayed in Riffee’s mind as he tried to grasp the idea of why this had happened. The night before had been spent bowling, hanging out as a family and going to dinner to celebrate Christopher’s birthday. Everything had seemed so normal.

“I still struggle with why,” Riffee said. “You can’t help but wonder. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t run through what happened that day and wonder what I could’ve done; it’s kind of like a guilt.”

Coping

Days filled with unbelievable grief and countless sleepless nights began to add up. For weeks following the loss, waves of uncontrollable sadness, guilt, and anger overtook Riffee and his family.

“To lose a sibling is an unimaginable grief,” Riffee’s wife, Amanda Riffee, said. “For as difficult as this still is for me, I can’t even imagine what my parents have felt.  Losing a child is something that no person should ever have to go through.”

Grief, with its multiple personas, engulfs everyone differently. For Riffee, the sharp stabs of sorrow hit unexpectedly. Other times, its constant presence slowly numbs all other emotion.

“For me, the pain was the worst immediately after and easily for two weeks,” Riffee said, “It slowly got better, then crashed on me a month later, when I had to put my dog to sleep; I don’t know why that set me over the edge.”

Now, the pain comes and goes. Some days, passing Christopher’s apartment every day on the way to drop off his kids at his mother-in-law’s house is a living nightmare. Other days, it’s nice. But Riffee and his wife lean on each other, friends and family when the waves of pain crash.

But the hardest thing for Riffee was explaining the situation to his sons. He remembers the conversation vividly.

Hearing those words from his oldest son, Owen, left him feeling empty.

“I guarantee you my youngest son won’t even remember him outside of pictures,” said Riffee. “My five-year-old understands to an extent, but he doesn’t grasp the concept of death.”

However, gone does not mean forgotten. Riffee plans on telling his sons when they are older, so they can comprehend and remember their “Uncle Dude.”

“The best way to recover from a loss is to know that there is support,” said Riffee. “Try to understand the situation, and honestly, don’t forget them. Create a way to remember.”

Remembrance is key, and every time he looks at his reflection, Riffee remembers how the situation has inspired him to “live correctly.” A glance in the mirror serves a reminder for him to pay more attention to people, put himself in other people’s shoes, and focus his energy into the most important things: His kids, his students, and his family.

“It really starts with simple thoughts; how you want to spend your days, weekends, and think about what really means the most you,” Riffee said.

As a father and husband, he works to spend as much quality time with them as possible. As a teacher, he began to evaluate his teaching style, making sure that the education he provides prepares students for their futures.

“I am proud of Matthew to have the courage to do what makes him happy,” Amanda said. “He never liked shaving, and after going through a life changing event like this, it puts things in perspective; shaving just because that is what people think you should do, seems small in comparison.”