CHAPTER THREE (SATURDAY)
Today, we buried my baby girl. I'll never see my Lizzie ever again. That thought cuts me to the core of my soul. Last night was the visitation at the funeral home. If I hear one more, "If you need anything, let me know," I think I'll scream. People meant well, but some of their comments were so not helpful. "I know how you feel!" Most of them have never lost a child, especially to suicide. "At least you've got Matt!" I'm glad I have Matt, but I want Lizzie too! "So, are you going to have any more children?" Well, yes we are, but that doesn't make up for the fact that Lizzie's gone. "It's God's will!" UGH! Who said? I don't think so! "God needed another angel in heaven." We need Lizzie here! Why can't people shut up if they don't know what to say! I really appreciated Matt and Lizzie's friends. Even Kate and Ethan came. They offered a tear or a hug, or brought tissue, rather than lame words. They may have been tongue tied or too frightened to say anything, but they did things right.
The funeral service was a blur. People said it was a "lovely service," whatever that means, but I don't remember a thing. All I kept thinking is that in a few minutes, we would be lowering my baby girl into the ground forever. That was ripping me to shreds inside. After the funeral was over, the funeral home director and our minister led us and our closest family and friends, including Lizzie and Matt's best friends, to the gravesite. I didn't hear a thing anyone said. Matt even said a few words. I am so proud of his courage under extreme grief. He sounded so grown up; he didn't even falter. I know I said a few words, but I don't remember any of it. It felt like I had an out of body experience or something like that. I stared at the casket the whole time, ticking down the minutes until Lizzie would be lowered into the ground. After the service, everyone gave the three of us space. We said our final farewells to Lizzie, and watched as the crane lowered the casket. The next thing I remember is Sam kneeling over me asking if I was awake. I guess I passed out. I suppose I'll have to tell him about the baby soon.
After the bereavement dinner, Sam drives Matt and I home. I walk upstairs and open Lizzie's bedroom door. It had been closed since the paramedics took my daughter from that room. As a force of habit, I knock on the door, "Lizzie, can I come in?" I ask. I could feel Sam behind me. I open the door, half way expecting Lizzie to be talking on the phone to Miranda or Gordo, but instead, I see the bloody sheets still on the bed, and my footprints on the carpet. Everything's soaked with her blood. Monday, we're going to need to call the cleaners. I don't think I can handle cleaning up my daughter's stuff. Eventually, Sam and I will have to go through Lizzie's belongings, but not today. Today, I just want to curl up on my bed with Lizzie's Mr. Snuggles and fall asleep forever. I pick up the stuffed pig, sit on the floor, and cry. I inhale. It smells like Lizzie; I don't ever want to wash it again. Sam sits on the floor behind me, and wraps me up in his embrace. "I miss Lizzie!" I cry. "I do too." "Why, Sam? Why did she do it?" "I don't know." "She left no note, nothing. I thought she was happy, Sam!" "I thought so too." "I mean, she went to Rome and had the time of her life, and then she started high school. She seemed to be so excited about being in high school." "I know." "She landed a spot in the honor choir, which is rare for a freshman, Isabella offered her a recording contract this summer, and I think she was dating Gordo. Her life seemed like it was going so well! What went wrong?" "I wish I knew, Jo." He holds me for a long time. I just want to scream! I look around the room, and lose it. "WHY, LIZZIE! WHY DID YOU DO IT? WHAT WAS SO AWFUL IN YOUR LIFE THAT YOU COULDN'T COME TO ME! YOUR DAD AND I WOULD HAVE DONE OUR BEST TO HELP! OH, GOD, SAM! OUR DAUGHTER IS DEAD! MY PRECIOUS BABY, THE DAUGHTER I GAVE BIRTH TO, TOOK A RAZOR TO HER SKIN AND SLASHED HERSELF UNTIL SHE BLED TO DEATH! I WANT MY LIZZIE BACK!" Sam holds me tight. I don't want him to let go. I feel like I'm going crazy. I didn't see Matt at the door. He saw the whole thing. How do I help him if I can't even help myself?