Two Kisses for Maddy_ A Memoir of Loss & Love - Matthew Logelin [41]
“I’m just gonna say what all of you are thinking: this fucking sucks.”
After spitting out that first thought, I felt totally at ease. The words flowed from me as if they were the only words I knew: I talked about the way Liz’s smile lit up every room she entered, the way she looked at me with her coruscating blue eyes, and the way she didn’t take shit from anyone. I talked about our amazing travels together, including the trips to Peru, India, Nepal, Greece, and Mexico. I told everyone about the great sense of accomplishment we felt when we had purchased our first house together just ten months earlier, and the excitement we felt about bringing Madeline into the world. I talked about my fears of raising our daughter alone. Mostly I just talked about how much I would miss having Liz in my life. As I spoke, everyone stared at me, seemingly holding their breath, waiting for me to stop talking before they exhaled. At one point I broke down in tears, and was joined at the front of the room by my brothers, dad, and stepdad. They passed the microphone around, telling their own favorite stories about Liz and giving me a break from baring my soul.
My brother David was the last to speak. “Matt and I are ten years apart, and since I was a little kid I’ve only known Matt and Liz, Liz and Matt. She was as much my sister as Matt is my brother.” He paused for a second. “I’ve dated a lot of girls in my life, and not one of them has been half as great as Liz. I hope that someday I can find the kind of love that these two shared.”
From the crowd, someone shouted out, “What’s your number?” It was Annie, one of Liz’s friends from college, making me laugh as she always managed to do. I’m sure there were some who found her words inappropriate, but they were exactly what I needed to hear. I’ll forever be thankful to her for doubling me over in laughter during one of the most difficult moments of my life.
After that, I invited Liz’s friends and family to join me at the front of the room to share their memories of her, too. It seemed like the service had been going on for five minutes, but when I looked at my watch—the watch Liz had given to me as a wedding gift, a watch I rarely wore—I realized I had been standing there, talking, listening, crying, and laughing, for over an hour. I had always felt that funerals, like weddings, should be short affairs, so after a few more words, I thanked everyone and invited them back to my house for a celebration. Before leaving, I made my way to one of the photo boards, grabbed a picture of a pregnant Liz happily pointing at her round belly in our backyard, and tucked it in the inside pocket of my suit coat.
Fifteen minutes later I stood in front of my house, watching people walk through our yard holding paper plates sagging under the weight of the food and red plastic cups filled with beer and wine. I couldn’t help but think that Liz would be proud if she could see this, as one of the big reasons we bought this house was because she wanted to entertain and throw dinner parties in our yard. Here we were, my family, her family, and our friends from all around the country having a huge party in honor of Liz, but it made me sick to my stomach to know that she was missing from the event. I made my way from person to person, giving and receiving hugs, and patting my stomach to indicate that I was full each time someone tried to make me eat something. Day five with persistent nausea, day five without food. I felt like I might never be able to eat again, but I was okay with that because I had lost