MUSKEGON, Mich. — EDITOR’S NOTE — This story includes discussion of suicide. If you or someone you know needs help, the national suicide and crisis lifeline in the U.S. is available by calling or texting 988. There is also an online chat at 988lifeline.org.
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Every parent pictures this night.
Graduation. The baby photos. The food. The guests. It’s all here at the Matejovitz home in Muskegon, Michigan.
The only thing missing? The graduate.
Becky Smith will be the first of many to tell you her daughter Emily was a bright light. The kind of kid who could befriend anyone.
“She always was like the first one to cheer for her softball teammates. It didn’t matter if they were winning or if they were losing — she would get on them. ‘Guys, you got to cheer no matter what.'”
She was 16. Advanced classes. Church youth group. Softball. Bowling. And a journal full of things she wanted to do someday — chief among them, to help people.
But underneath it all, she was struggling.
December 23, 2024, started as any other for the Matejovitz family. They were bustling around the kitchen, getting ready to host the holiday at their home. Emily was eating pickle wraps, preparing her homemade mac and cheese for Christmas dinner.
That night, they ordered pizza. Emily’s father found her when he went upstairs to grab her for dinner.
He yelled for Becky.
“It was the worst thing in the world to walk into. He was getting tired, so I took over giving CPR to my daughter,” Becky said through tears.
She was rushed to the hospital, where she was declared brain dead. By Dec. 27, Emily had lost her battle with mental health.
Becky and her husband sat together in a hospital room and asked themselves one question.
“We said to each other, ‘We got to think about what Emily would want.'”
The answer led them to Gift of Life Michigan. And then — a sign.
When Gift of Life went to add Emily to the donor registry, she was already on it. She had signed up when she got her ID. Never said a word about it.
“She never told us. Me and my husband both looked at each other, and we said we made the right decision,” Becky smiled.
At the graduation party, her unworn cap and gown are on display. It was paid for by her classmates. It will be worn by no one.
No, the graduate is not here, but several special guests brought her memory to life.
“My name is Landon Coleman, and I have Emily’s heart,” said the teen who drove 10 hours from Virginia to be here.
Landon was born with five congenital heart defects. By eighth grade, he was in and out of the hospital for two years. Two Christmases ago, he spent the holiday in a hospital room. Days later, they got the call.
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“I couldn’t keep up with other kids,” said Landon. “It lets me do things that I couldn’t have done before.”
Then there’s Ripley — a four-year-old boy from Oak Hill, West Virginia, who received Emily’s kidney. His parents, Justin and Audra Ferrell, drove nine hours to be here tonight.
“Getting the kidney has fundamentally changed our lives,” said Justin, holding Ripley.
Ripley was on dialysis from the time he was one month old. For nearly three years, his parents took turns sleeping in a recliner so someone could hold him through the night. He had never slept through the night. Never seen Christmas lights. Never been in a bathtub.
“I would make this trip 1,000 times if it meant Becky got to pick him up again,” Justin said.
“As a mother, I could not imagine losing my child. I’m so thankful that another mom helped save mine,” Audra said through tears.
Becky had written each recipient family not long after Emily died. She had to know if they were okay.
All of them wrote back. All of them came here tonight.
“When your child dies, your biggest fear is people are going to forget them. When I talk to Landon’s family, Ripley’s family — they make a point to tell people about Emily,” said Becky.
Now, when the Ferrells take Ripley to the park, they visit the softball field, just to talk about her. They donate bags with Emily’s favorite things and a card all about her to their local food pantries. They created a scholarship fund in her honor.
Tonight, Becky got to do something she never imagined — press a stethoscope to Landon’s chest.
She gasped. She cried.
“Breathtaking — knowing that my baby’s heart still beats,” she said, through tears.
She held Landon as she told him he carries Emily’s legacy on.
“If I could say anything to Emily, I would tell her that I wish she was here. I wish she could know the impact — to see the waves that she made before even any of this happened. Emily has been changing lives from the moment that she was born, and I wish she knew that,” Audra said, through tears.
“Sometimes I think — I really wish I could have met her,” agreed Landon.
No parent pictures this night. A graduation dinner with an empty cap and gown, marking a new beginning for a graduate who isn’t here.
“Emily’s story isn’t over. She’s not here — but it’s far from over.”
Becky, instead, marks a new beginning for the pieces of her that still are.
“We’re like family now,” Becky said, looking to the party. “I felt like Emily was with us.”
