Matt was a wonderful person and will be sorely missed. I worked with Matt closely for many years at two different companies and had the privilege of watching him grow in his professional career. We collaborated closely on a software product and Matt's contributions were priceless in building the product and growing the team. Matt and I later found each other on the same team again at a home security firm where Matt was able to stretch his wings and branch out into other areas of technology and management. He had a keen technical mind, strong eye for quality, and worked diligently to support his teammates and colleagues; ever respectful and loyal.

Over the years, I had many conversations both business and personal with Matt. He was always caring and had many stories to share about his dog, Autumn, who brought so much joy to his life. Matt and I shared a love of vintage video games and on several occasions traded games and consoles. We also enjoyed shared interests in cars, smart home technology, and home A/V. Matt was a wealth of knowledge in these areas and had a lot to share.

Its such a shame to have someone so talented have their story cut short. I'm thankful for the time I did get to spend with Matt, enjoyed watching him grow, and will certainly miss him.

I first met Matt (who I would mostly refer to as Stemen, or Steam [sic]) in 2007. We'd started at the same job at roughly the same time, and would spend most of the next 10 years working literally side by side.

As in Mr. Flaherty's story, Steam and I had a friendly-but-antagonistic professional relationship as software developer and software tester. Any time I would fail to do my job correctly, which was often, it was Steam who would tell me - with his characteristic precision, straightforwardness, and barely-hidden glee. He was not one to mince words, or pull punches, and he'd send my failures back to me with a flourish, a grin, and an unmistakable twinkle in his eye. Steam had a singular ability to be equal parts maddening and endearing, and it was this unique trait that made him irreplaceable and impossible not to love.

What started as professional courtesy became a close friendship as the years passed, rife with his unforgettable sense of humor and mischief. He was big-hearted, quick-witted, and more perceptive than I would ever let him know. I can still see his mischievous smile, the way he'd somehow always wave goodbye without raising his hand from his waist, and I can still hear the booming laugh he gave on the rare occasion that one of my jokes really tickled him.

He was a hard nut to crack sometimes, but he nonetheless would consistently demonstrate how much he cared. He was guest #1 at countless barbecues. I would bring him exotic hot sauces from my travels, and he would happily accept them, finish them, a dutifully give me a detailed rating and review. He would call me a Philistine with that glint in his eye.

He touched my life in enduring ways - even though our contact dropped off when I moved away, not a week has gone by that I wasn't reminded of him in some small way. He was a good man and a good friend, and I will remember him always.

I met Matt as a very green software developer a little over a decade ago. I was seated directly next to him, as I recall, in the hopes that I might soak up some of his competency by proxy. In the weeks that followed, Matt became a mentor to me. He was the first to formally test my code (sorry again, Matt), and while I'm certain the extra time it took out of his day to work with someone so new and inexperienced was probably at times annoying, Matt never once let it show. In fact, he went out of his way to always patiently explain, in precise detail, the reasons for failing one of my tickets. I never doubted that Matt did it because he wanted me to succeed.

Part of Matt's charm to me has always been his unique quirks. I used to eat a lot of Starburst candy at work. I always put the orange-flavored ones aside because I didn't like them as much as the others. I daresay most people would rank them at the bottom. Not Matt. They were "his favorite", he tells me, so I hand them over. When I expressed disbelief that he really and truly preferred orange over every other flavor, Matt smiled at me, held up a finger, and quickly produced a previously purchased bag of only orange Starburst from his desk drawer.

We became friends outside of work, and one shared passion (other than Starburst) was retro video games. But where I was satisfied mainly with playing them, Matt also relished finding and testing game-breaking bugs in these games. I was in awe, here is a guy who finds and tests my bugs at work, and then when I hang out with him he's also finding and testing bugs in games we both played as kids! I was impressed at how well he was able to integrate what was clearly a passion of his into other facets of his life.

More than anything else, though, what I'll miss most about Matt is his quiet and humble decency as a person. I recall one time where he slept on my couch rather than drive home late at night. The next morning, I found him wide awake and ready to depart. He'd been awake hours before me but didn't want to wake me up early, and he didn't want to leave without saying goodbye. Just one instance of many in which he revealed his gentle character, incredible thoughtfulness, and loyalty as a friend.