“I
was preparing your twenty first birthday,” she started, her voice
faint, yet barely quivering. “You were always brave, Josh. The only
thing you feared was that people would find out how sensitive you really
were ... But this is what I love about you, Josh. You don’t have to be
ashamed. I adored it when you read your poems to me. You inspired me.
Now I want to read to you my very first poem:
The first clod of earth drops.
Soon, only memories remain.
The hole in the ground is filling.
But not in my heart
That will remain open
Forever.
Sarah
paused, her eyes landed on us, his team, and I realized that for those
who did not know her, she would seem expressionless. But I could see how
painfully she was biting her top lip and I wished that she, her words,
and the entire ceremony would be over. I wished that I would be over. I
wished that I would be anywhere but here.
Sarah
stepped down. She did not stop. As she wandered away, a feeling of
relief washed through my body: inappropriate lightness, unlike anything I
had felt for weeks. I would not need to speak to her after all. I would
not need to tell her my story.
