People would remember the dress. They would remember the flower. They might even remember the laughter that came first and the silence that followed.
But I would remember something else.
I would remember my son walking through a room that did not understand him, carrying his sister’s courage in one pocket and her love in the other. I would remember the moment he stood in front of me and told me that both of my children had made it to graduation.
And I would remember that grief can change shape without leaving. Sometimes it becomes a promise. Sometimes it becomes a flower pressed flat between two hands. Sometimes it becomes a boy in a bright red dress, walking steadily toward the people he loves.
Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. All images are for illustration purposes only.
