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Once the service concluded, people made their way to Tom and Candee’s house. I caught a ride with A.J.—I needed to be with my best friend at that moment. We drove out the gates of the cemetery in the direction of Liz’s parents’ house, and after sitting in silence for a couple of blocks, I suddenly yelled, “Take a right!” just as we approached Lake Street. A.J. took the turn without question or hesitation, even though we were now heading in the wrong direction.

“I need to stop at the record store. Those Replacements reissues came out on Tuesday and I need to get them.”

He laughed. “Do you think that’s a good idea right now?” I knew what he meant. The few hundred people on their way to Tom and Candee’s would likely want to talk to me, or would at least expect me to be there.

“Liz wouldn’t have it any other way,” I replied.

Actually, Liz probably would have been pretty pissed about me stopping for records after a funeral, but in this case, I felt like she’d understand. Yeah, I was being a little selfish, but she knew that one of the great joys in my life was buying records, especially when I was having a bad day. This was a bad day of epic proportions. She’d grant me this stop, and she’d be glad to know that I was keeping my shit together, even if doing so meant that I kept some friends and family waiting.

“I know exactly what I need; we’ll be in and out,” I promised.

Five minutes later we were back in the car and heading over to the house. A.J. followed the road on the north side of the lake, and my stomach sank when the stoplight turned green. Just ahead was the Calhoun Beach Club—the place where Liz and I had gone to dinner before our prom, and the place where we had been married not even three years earlier. As A.J. and I approached the building I did my best to avoid looking at it, but the harder I tried, the faster it came at me, and I started sniffling before we had even reached it. It was like the drive home from the hospital past the funeral home all over again.

A.J. looked over at me, tears welling up in his eyes, too. “Matt, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about it.”

I managed to say, “It’s okay.” But I wasn’t okay, not yet. I would be, though—or at least I tried to think so, until we got to Tom and Candee’s house.

This miserably failed attempt to ignore the unavoidable forced me to realize that after more than twelve years together, it would be impossible to steer clear of all the places that held memories of my life with Liz. It would be to my advantage to go to these places, to embrace them, and to remember the moments that shaped our relationship, no matter how painful confronting them was. As A.J. and I continued driving, I thought about all the significant places we had passed that day just going to and coming back from Liz’s funeral. The gas station where we had met, the restaurant where we had our first date, the spot where we had our rehearsal dinner, and the countless stores, streets, and restaurants that had been a stage to so much of our lives. And it wasn’t just Minnesota—I had felt this way in Los Angeles as well. I wasn’t going to the farmer’s market at the Grove or the Oinkster or Whole Foods anymore.

Just thinking about stepping foot in a produce aisle brought me back to a memory of the last New Year’s Eve Liz and I had together. That night, Liz, her pregnant belly not showing quite yet, spotted one of her many celebrity crushes, Joel McHale, at the Glendale Whole Foods. The well-trained LA girl that she was, Liz never said a word to him; she just trailed him like a puppy. While we waited to check out only one line over from the subject of her stalking, I said, “Liz, it’s pretty fucking creepy that you followed him around the entire store.”

“He’s so hot. And a lot taller than I expected.”

“Jesus.”

“I wished you dressed more like him.”

“That is my child in your womb, right?”

“I think so.”

I smiled thinking about that moment, realizing how much I missed her sarcastic sense of humor. I wanted so badly just to talk