By the end of that day—
hundreds of people in Bellmere knew Mary’s name.
They knew she had chosen a red dress.
They knew she had picked a yellow daisy outside Willowcrest Medical Center.
And they knew she had a brother who loved her enough to carry her across the graduation stage when she could no longer walk it herself.
That night, looking at the framed flower beside the photograph of my children, I finally understood why Ethan had told me:
“It doesn’t matter if they laugh.”
He was right.
