Honor Elizabeth Wainio


Danny Langton


In her body there were secret plans
for being old, invisible clocks
that did not tick nor take up space,
waiting like switches on her tracks
to dim the eye, to stop the flux,
to sharpen, and to dull, the plan.

All this gone. All this gone.

Dressing to be on time, checking
to see if she could safely fly,
the blue a promise in the morning's warmth.
The grip of dresses, underwear
and gifts, the smiles for porters,
taximan, strangers, and the others on the plane.

All this gone. All this gone.

The eggs that would pass the other eggs,
with code for bones, and code for hair
from brown to gray, and code for hair
and bones in children of those children
until the coast of time came into view
and all of floating life was beached and dry.

All this gone. All this gone.

The gentleness we show someone
to whom we have no business to be kind
because you once were kind, and those
who touch as they would not have touched
until they saw in you that it was true,
that it may be done, that it was there.

This is what's left. This we can keep.

Danny Langton
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Wendy L. Simmons

Dear Lizz,

It all started at Water Street five or six years ago.

Well, actually, it all started with softball. I was on Tom's Tuesday night team, and would also then see the team out at Water Street on Friday nights. Tom told me he was going to bring you to happy hour, because you worked too hard and needed to get out more.

Sure enough, the following Friday, you arrived at Water Street. Within 5 minutes of your arrival, one of us commented that we had to use the ladies room. The other said she did too. I can't remember which one of us started that exchange, but, like a bad female stereotype, we went off the bathroom as a pair, and came back chattering like we had known one another for years.

The following Friday you came back to Water Street. And this time you brought your high school best friend, Michele. Similar to our instant rapport the prior week, the three of us were soon inseperable. I'm pretty sure I never thanked you, but thank you for introducing me to another one of my best friends.

I would give my right arm to have you back, and that means a lot because then I wouldn't be able to make any throws to home plate without my right arm. And foosball would also be a lot more challenging. But, I will have to settle for always having you in my heart, and as a big piece of my soul.

I love you lots.
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Linda McFaul

Over the past weeks many people have offered their sympathy for the loss of such a great friend. When I try to explain her exraordinary character, I find that there are not enough words to express how truly wonderful she was. Her positive energy radiated.

I feel so very lucky to have spent the day with Lizz just a few Saturdays ago. She, Chanda and I talked for hours about things that were going on in our lives. And later, after an Orioles game with her family, she met me at the Ropewalk for an extended night out. I will always cherish the time I have spent with Lizz and what her friendship meant to me.

Lizz made time for everyone. She never missed an important event in my life and always offered such insightful advice.

She will always be a part of who I am, and for that I thank her.
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