Two Kisses for Maddy_ A Memoir of Loss & Love - Matthew Logelin [40]
“Why the fuck am I the one still alive?” I asked out loud, as Alex stood behind me, looking over my head and into the mirror, trying to get my pink tie with the white polka dots to lie just right.
Adjusting the Windsor knot and creating the perfect dimple below it, he said, “The question I have for you is, how the hell did you make it through thirty years of life without learning how to tie a fucking tie?”
“Shut up, asshole. It’s one of my proudest accomplishments. Not too many people my age can say such a thing.”
He rolled his eyes and nodded in agreement. It was only the second time I was wearing this tie; the first had been my wedding day. The suit I had on—the only suit I’d ever owned—had been purchased specifically for our rehearsal dinner. Now, fewer than three years after that night in August, I was headed to Liz’s funeral in it.
We arrived at the funeral home about an hour before the service, and as we approached the door, I saw at least forty flower displays lined up outside the place. Inside, there had to be ten thousand dollars’ worth of flowers and plants—this must be why obituaries often say in lieu of flowers, I thought. We all looked around in amazement, our eyes finally settling on a display just to the left of the entrance that was so immense it rendered us motionless. Written on the ivory-colored ribbon woven through it were the words From your friends at Blush.
Confusion settled in and everyone’s brows furrowed, but I started laughing and answered their unspoken question: “Blush is the salon where Liz got her hair done.” She would have been so happy to see that.
Just as I’d hoped, the photo boards lined the hallway outside of the chapel, showing off a smiling Liz enjoying life to the fullest. There were a couple of hidden gems in the mix, pictures I’d chosen specifically to give people a good laugh. There was one of her standing next to the measuring stick at a ride at Disneyland, the implication being that she had just managed to meet the height requirement to go on it; one of her reliving an exasperated moment she’d had in North India when the temperatures reached 118 degrees; and one of her standing next to a clown-shaped garbage can at the Minnesota state fair, mimicking the open mouth it used to collect everyone’s trash.
I walked into the chapel with A.J. and was immediately assaulted by the sounds of “On Eagle’s Wings.” “Fucking hell. We need to get this music turned off before I kill someone.”
I found a man in a suit I didn’t recognize and figured he must be one of the sons referenced on the sign outside of the funeral home. “Hey. I have a couple of CDs with music I want to have playing during the service. Can you take us to your sound system?” A few minutes later I was humming along to “Dress Sexy at My Funeral.”
People started to stream in, stopping to share a hug and their condolences with every familiar face they encountered. I mostly ignored them, waving from time to time as I paced, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to say at my wife’s funeral. I had decided that two of Liz’s uncles would emcee the event, and that I would do the bulk of the speaking—that is, if I could find the words. There would be no prayers and no Bible verses while I was at the podium, just stories, but I hadn’t really thought about how I was going to pull it off. I’d always been terrified of public speaking; I sort of possessed the confidence of a twelve-year-old girl in the early stages of puberty when standing in front of a crowd. This felt different, though.
The time came and I took my place at the front of the room. Liz’s uncles said a few words for the God-fearing folks in the room before relinquishing the microphone to me. I stood there, clutching the sides of the wooden podium, staring down at nothing, and after a few seconds I looked up. All of the pews were filled, and people were sitting on the floor in the aisles, standing in the hallway, spilling out the door and into the parking lot. Our friends, family, coworkers, nurses from the hospital, total strangers—so many people had