“I spent hours trying to write the perfect speech that would do my brother justice, but no words can ever do that. I ended up tearing everything I wrote to pieces. Part of me knew it was because I shouldn’t have been writing such a thing for someone so young, another part is still in denial that he is even gone, and another knew that a prolonged summation would only disappoint the memories we have of our baby brother.” Enzo pauses, recalibrates, and finds an inner poise. “It saddens me to see our family and friends brought together as a result of such tragedy, but we had to guess this would occur in our lifetime.” I watch him struggle with his emotions, but he continues on. “I was told this morning that I should be lucky I’m only burying one sibling and not two, but how does that make this any easier? It’s true that I nearly came close to standing here only to be remembering the life and times I had not only with Manuel, but also with Amelia, and I’m lucky that isn’t so, but that doesn’t lessen any of my grief. In the aftermath of the attack at our home, we lived every moment as it came waiting to find out if we lost both of them. When Amelia woke up, the sorrow that ate at all of us had us questioning everything we hold dearly. The grief that took over is something I cannot describe. We are not the same people that lived day in and day out before that attack. We are finally beaten to a point that we will never recover from and I have no idea what the future holds, but I know it will be emptier without Manuel’s presence in it.” He takes a steadying breath, but I know Enzo is struggling to find the words that usually come easily to him. “Manuel was always the one that regardless of the front he put on to the public would be the jokester behind closed doors. There are so many memories I will cherish of my brother that no one else but myself and my brothers and sister can share. He was far braver, stoic, and stronger than any of us, and I will forever resent him for ever being able to truly share those sides with others. But I am more than lucky to say I watched him grow into a man I always wished he had.”
I cannot help but agree with every word spoken. I nod as he speaks, absorbing the truths presented to the masses and the happier memories swirl around me. All those moments when Manuel was the leader, the confidante, the jokester all whirl to life the more I listen to Enzo speak. But it’s short-lived as the sobering moment rings true the more Enzo continues to speak.
“Manuel’s passing isn’t something any of us will recover from. Physically, we’ll all bounce back, but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually we are all going to be feeling his absence for a long time. I’m just sorry that we will never get to see what else Manuel had to offer the world because his time was cut far, far too short.”
My tears begin their torrent down my face, spiraling across my cheeks, and I barely hear Enzo say I’m giving a few words next. It isn’t until Bruno reaches out to me that I snap out of my breakdown and look up. Bruno nods his head to Enzo, who when I look, waves me up. Finally breaking my connection to Zane, I wipe my face down and I begin to get up, slowly rising to my feet. I approach Enzo as he offers me the space to speak. I nurse my stomach, my healing wounds still wreaking havoc on me and I find my physical weakness is not helping my emotional state. The more pain that ebbs through me, the more I am reminded of that day. As if the pain is a trigger for the memories. Every time I close my eyes in a bid to forget the pain, memories of Manuel begging and pleading with me hit out and the morsel of my heart throbs with agony that I have to do this. I chose to be one of those to serve remembrance to Manuel, but now that I have my opportunity, I find I’m unable to hold it together on my own.
“Please, stay,” I say to him, my whispered tone a minor beg.
“Of course, I will,” he whispers back and retreats back to the podium.
I follow and he steps back allowing me to take the spot he had stood moments earlier. I look out at the sea of people, but ultimately my gaze is drawn back to my father as he sits with tears in his eyes, his shoulders squared, and his gaze set on me. I then look at Carlo and Bruno and watch as they sit with that same grief Enzo and I share. Then there’s Zane; his eyes hold a sadness that I hate, but he’s watching me and offering silent encouragement. It’s with that I take a deep breath and start to speak.
“My baby brother was the one out of all of us who had an ounce of hope,” I begin, my gaze dropping away from the crowd. One sentence of remembering him is all I can manage before that crushing wave of grief escalates to a tsunami of deep, dark emotion. I begin to speak, slowly raising my gaze to the crowd again. “H-he was kind, compassionate, very much our mother. He was the one who never lost who he was to appease others, no matter how much he worried and fretted over it. He never changed to fit in, never sought approval, never ever caved to the pressures our family had on us all. So it’s with a heavy heart that I stand here today and have to commemorate his life. Manuel was the most beautiful of us all and I can say I am proud to have had him by my side. Regardless of what happened, he only ever loved us. That was unchangeable to my brother.” I drop my gaze once more as my tears begin to fall and I feel a guilt sit on my shoulders. “It sounds insane to say I was always jealous of my brother. I was always jealous of my little brother because he possessed so much greatness that I wished at times I could just take some of it for myself. He was the one who stuck by his values, remained loyal, and kept his heart on lockdown for only those special enough to witness it. I was lucky to know I was loved by him, and I can only hope he knew how much I truly loved him.” I bite my lip and sniffle as I feel the tears creeping with a vengeance. “There really was no sweeter innocence in the madness of our family than Manuel, and I will miss everything he had to offer us. He might have been my baby brother, but he taught me more than I could have ever learned myself. He taught me to love freely, to fight for what I love most, and to never give up.”
It’s as I say that I choke on a sob. I bow my head, finding I’m unable to continue, but as Enzo’s hand wraps around my own, gripping tight as if to empower me, I know I have to do this. I look up, turning my head to gaze at him with bleary vision, and he gives me an encouraging smile to continue onwards with my eulogy.
“You can do this, Lia,” he tells me, standing beside me now. “For Manuel.”