Matthew Benjamin Butcher was born on a cold, rainy St. Patrick’s Day in 1983. He was a sweet baby, a delightful child, smart, stubborn, and inquisitive as an art, or for sport.
God, I loved him!
Matt was a gifted athlete with a smart eye and a big heart. He had a competitive spirit, selfless commitment to the team, love of the game.
He was a good man. He was his mother’s son, never crossed a picket line, always rooted for the underdog.
I’ve heard stories – stories a mother would never otherwise hear. Matthew was a good friend; a lover not a fighter; a kibitzer; a committed golfer; a loving, best big brother to Steven Butcher; and he treated women with respect – the prayer of every mother raising a son.
Matthew worked at the Higher Path in Los Angeles because he believed in the healing benefits of marijuana. On June 24, 2010, men came to rob the marijuana dispensary he worked in, and shot him and his co-worker in the back of their heads, while they lay on the floor. Matt and Jr. gave them everything they asked for, yet Matt is dead and Jr. is forever harmed.
I love him and miss him every day. I still wear his deodorant- every morning I put on his scent, something manly and Gillette-y.
The more guns there are, the more gun deaths we’ll see. It’s really that simple.