Column by Ken Hamilton — Matthew Sklarski died in a tragic accident two months ago.

Niagara Falls police speculate that, while driving his white pickup truck, he damaged another vehicle in the parking lot of a coffee shop and then sped away. Tearing through a pool of water as he sped into the tight turn in the road, a turn too tight for his speed and his tires, Matt lost control of his truck and it slammed into a wooden utility pole that towered high into the air.

If the accident occurred the way that the police think, based upon the matching paints on both vehicles, then anyone who didn’t know Matt would be left with a very negative image after reading his story in the newspapers — that he died trying to escape responsibility. I know, because that is what I too had thought.

But according to those who knew Matt, that incident was uncharacteristic of their friend, their fellow student and their fellow parishioner.

After learning the rest of Matt's story, I am reminded of a Randy Travis song called "Three Wooden Crosses."

Travis sang of a tragic bus accident where passengers in search of their separate destinies died. Three of them would have been considered good and noble, and one was of questionable character. It was the latter who survived and lived to change uncounted lives. The song describes the three wooden memorial crosses on the right side of that highway and Travis wonders “Why there’s not four of them, Heaven only knows.”

I was recently told of a man who would really understand the essence of the country singer’s sweet and touching song, all because of young Matt Skalarski.

Mike Johnson is an older black gentleman who uses a wheelchair, and though he cannot walk he has enjoyed a lot of his favorite things in life because of the dedication that Matt had for Mike and others.

Mike knew Matt from the Walnut Avenue Christian Church, where they both attended. Until recently, Mike lived nearby in a building. During good weather, after getting help to negotiate the stairs, he could wheel himself to church with very little assistance. But in the winter months he could not. Those were the mornings that Matt would leave his LaSalle-area home, go by Mike’s house and untiringly push Mike and his wheelchair to church through the snow.

When it was time for Mike to find more suitable accommodations for his wife and himself, it was that white pickup truck of Matt’s that was the first on the scene to help him to move his possessions.

Both Pastor Jim Cassidy and parishioner Rick Sweney agreed that Matt was not only like that with Mike, but also with many others — always there, ready and eager to help. Matt's mission seemed to be in his efforts to lead as many as he could to hear the Gospel that had inspired him.

It is with a bit irony that Matt would give up his quickly lived life after passing his truck though a pool of water and into the base of that humble wooden tower. Many of you will understand this without explanation; because in a sense it was the same way that the baptized lad had found his new life.

The Walnut Avenue Christian Church is a nice-sized church but like most churches in America today many of its pews remain unoccupied during regular services. That was not the case at Matt’s memorial service. The church was overflowing with mourners as Matt’s broken body laid near the pulpit, near the open and symbolically torn veil where there stands a replica of the world’s most famous, humble, wooden tower — the cross. Behind that cross is a mural of a stream of water that passes beneath it. And the scripture above it declares Revelation 22:7, “Behold, I come quickly.”

We must believe that Matt’s spirit now dwells high above us. But you must also know that in his death, Matt has acquired some very close friends of which he is now a welcomed part. For you see, the young man also had the foresight to become an organ donor.

Because of Matt’s sacrifice, there are others who understand Travis’ song even better than Mike Johnson.

This Thanksgiving weekend, know that Matt’s sacrifice has enabled a mother of four to enjoy her children much better and for much longer; a Vermont mother to enjoy her two children in a way that henceforth she could not; a grateful NYC man who now has a second chance at life, and a retired Connecticut schoolteacher now has an greater opportunity to continue to share in that better world that she has helped to create in the lives of the thousands of students that she once taught.

In Matt’s very responsible dying gifts, other’s will be able to see things that they may not have ever seen, walk to places to which they hither fore may not have gone, pick up babies that once they could not lift, and have hearts repaired that would have otherwise been lost.

May I ask you what is more of an example of the Gospel of Jesus Christ than that of a man who lived his life as did Matt; and then, despite the circumstances, give up his own life; and in so doing, gave life to so many others?

Shouldn’t we all be more like Matt? In his death, it seems, he did many of the things that he had wished to have done in life, and so much more.

As for Randy Travis, he closes out his song by saying of the three wooden crosses, “Why there’s not four of them, now I guess we know; it’s not what you take when you leave this world behind you, it’s what you leave behind you when you go.”

Matt left a bit of his heart with many others and with me; and now I share my piece, and peace, with you.

Contact him at kenhamilton930@aol.com.