The bouquet trembled in my hands.
“That woman sat beside me every night while I studied.”
His voice cracked.
“When the electricity got cut off, she held a flashlight over my textbooks.”
People began looking at me differently.
Not with pity.
With respect.
Daniel wasn’t finished.
“When I needed shoes, she fixed old ones.”
A tear slid down my cheek.
“When I wanted to quit, she wouldn’t let me.”
Another tear.
“When I thought college was impossible, she made me believe.”
The room remained silent.
The kind of silence that only truth creates.
Then Daniel looked directly at his father.
