Page 80 of Keeping London (Flawed Heart)

Then, there’s Maggie, sitting between her parents, and though I can only see the back of her, the heartache in her posture is evident, and my heart aches for her.

Behind the rows of immediate family are military men in their dress uniforms, all sitting up straight, their posture communicating respect.

I scan the backs of the men for the one that I’m desperate to see. I haven’t heard from Loïc since Cooper died. Unfortunately, Maggie hasn’t either. I don’t know if he was given permission to fly home for the funeral or not. I don’t really know how that works. I’m sure, if a family member of a soldier passed while he was serving, he would be granted leave to return for the funeral. But a friend? I don’t know. Cooper was so much more than a friend to Loïc, but perhaps, with the military, it’s all black and white. I doubt the closeness or level of friendship is taken into account.

But maybe? I’m praying that he’s here. I desperately need to see him.

I keep looking back to the door, praying to see Loïc walking through it, but when the priest starts the service, my hopes fall.

He’s not coming. I can’t believe it. He’s not coming.

Paige wraps her arm around my shoulder and pulls me into her side, as if she knows I’m about to break. I lean my head onto her shoulder, thankful that she’s here with me. My family offered to fly in for the funeral, but I told them that they didn’t need to. They had never met Cooper, but they understood how important he was to me. But I knew I would have Paige here. She loved Cooper, and she is basically my family anyway.

This isn’t the first funeral I’ve been to. I’ve been to quite a few actually—grandparents, great-aunts and great-uncles, and family friends.

Funerals suck. All of them blow. But this one sucks the most.

The other ones I’ve been to, although sad, were for older people, people who had lived a good life. Cooper didn’t live a full life, not even close. He had so much more to do. His life was taken too soon, and the gravity of that injustice is almost unbearable.

I’m so sad, mad, heartbroken, and unbelievably furious that his life was cut short. It’s not fair. I think that’s why it’s such a horrible loss.

Several people go up to the pulpit to say nice things about Cooper. I get it; we’re here to celebrate his life. Yet it just makes me bitter. Hearing about how wonderful Cooper was causes me to be more upset that he’s gone.

Finally, the service is over, and six men in their military dress uniforms walk to the front of the church. They pick up the casket and carry it down the aisle. The first two rows of Cooper and Maggie’s closest family and friends follow the recession.

“I guess we go now,” Paige says beside me as the people in our row begin to stand.

“Yeah.”

Cooper’s family and Maggie stand in the foyer of the church in a receiving line. We follow the line of people as they exit the church. I watch as Cooper’s parents and sisters embrace each person who passes, extending thanks to those who came to celebrate Cooper’s life.

What a miserable thing to have to do—console others when it is your son/brother/fiancé who died. I don’t really understand this part of funerals. We should be the ones hugging and consoling them, not the other way around.

When I reach Maggie, we pull each other into a hug and cry. I didn’t think I had any more tears left to cry, but they’re falling again.

“I’m so sorry,” I say when I finally pull away.

“I know. Me, too.” Maggie nods. “Any news from Loïc?” she asks sadly.

“No. You?”

She shakes her head. “I wish he had been here. David would have wanted him here.”

“I know.” I nod.

“Let me know if you hear anything,” she pleads softly.

“I will. You, too.”

“Of course,” she agrees. “Let’s get together soon.”

“Absolutely.” I pull her into another hug before moving on to the next person in the receiving line.

I shake each of Cooper’s parents’ and sisters’ hands and offer my condolences. When I exit the church, I almost welcome the frigid air, as opposed to the suffocating sadness within the church.

Cooper’s immediate family is going to attend his military burial at the national cemetery and then have dinner together at Cooper’s favorite Italian restaurant. If Loïc were here, I’m sure I’d be going, but I can’t go without him. Truthfully, they don’t really know me. Maggie said I’d be welcome, but I want the family to be able to grieve among those they are close to. I’d feel like I was intruding.

It’s just as well. I don’t know if I can take any more sadness today.

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