Honoring Matthew Griffin

A brother and a friend. Those are probably the two most common words used to describe Matt “Bull” Griffin.

One other adjective was frequently used to describe Griffin at his memorial service Wednesday: unique.

When Griffin, who was a paramedic with Gonzales County EMS, passed away Oct. 15 in a tragic motorcycle crash, friends, family, co-workers and Griffin’s motorcycle riding club buddies the “Texas Road Docs” were devastated.

But on Wednesday, the resolve they made to let go of their despair, likely inspired by Griffin himself, remained as solid as the highway Griffin now rides as he leaves this world behind.

Now they’re just remembering the life of their brother and friend.

A funeral procession on Wednesday took Griffin and his buddies from Austin home to Gonzales. Dozens of emergency first responders’ vehicles and motorcycles joined Griffin’s last ride, with Road Docs Vice President Mike Furrh leading the way, carrying his friend’s cremated remains with him.

“Matt was close friends with all of us,” Furrh had said two days earlier. “There’ll never be another Matt Griffin. He was a man of his own, a very thorough person at work. He gave of himself, and loved his family, the Road Docs and his work.”

Gonzales and Nixon first responders, Shiner Police Department, Harris County Emergency Corps, Travis County EMS, Austin PD and Wilson County Emergency Services District 3 were among many who made the trip, later gathering to pay tribute to their fallen friend.

Griffin’s funeral, which was held after the ride at First Methodist Church, was anything but a sad farewell. Rather, it was a celebration of his life, with friends, family and co-workers citing Griffin’s unique personality and sense of humor as things they’ll forever cherish.

Fellow paramedic and Road Doc Guy Minshall remembered how Griffin liked to pick on him because of his “diminutive stature” (Griffin stood six-foot-six). Minshall laughed heartily while showing pictures of Griffin smoking cigars and wearing silly costumes. He chuckled and pointed to the sky as he removed a step stool set out for him at the lectern.

Linda Richter, another co-worker, shared stories about Griffin’s determination to always have a good time and make sure people around him did too.

“He was unique,” she said. “He was one of a kind, and a great guy.”

Robert Hupple, another friend and former co-worker from up north, recalled a funny incident where Griffin was clowning around and “scared the sh*t” out of him. He added that the two once argued that everything in Texas isn’t necessarily big; with Hupple’s point of contention being that the Great Lakes are big and they aren’t anywhere near Texas. Griffin’s response?

“They’re not lakes, Robert. They’re inland seas!”

After the funeral, the crowd gathered across the street as first responders retired Griffin’s call number 859. As if on cue, a gentle breeze blew through the streets, like a soul being swept away to another sky — one seen only by those whose time has come to move on.

To quote Griffin’s brothers and friends in the Road Docs: “Ride on, brother. We’ll take it from here.”