Consequences.
The priest tried to continue, but the air had changed. The ceremony was still happening, but it would never feel the same again.
Because my daughter—silent in that casket—had just spoken louder than anyone in the room.
PART 2 — The Ground Opened, and So Did My Promise
When it was time for burial, the earth opened like a mouth.
The casket lowered slowly. I rested my hand against the wood and finally whispered what I couldn’t say in the hospital because I was afraid grief would swallow me whole:
“Forgive me, sweetheart… for not believing you were stronger than you thought.”
My throat tightened.
“I swear your story won’t end here.”
