My parents skipped the funeral of my husband and two children because it was my sister’s birthday. When I begged them to come, my father calmly said,

you every minute,” I whispered. “But I’m still here.”

The wind moved softly through the trees.

There was no answer, of course.

Only morning light. Cold air. My hand resting on the names carved into stone.

For the first time since the funeral, I did not feel abandoned by everyone.

I felt surrounded by the people who had truly loved me.