The women in our family had passed down silence like an heirloom.
Grandma stayed quiet when Grandpa disappeared for three days at a time.
Mom stayed quiet when Dad drank through our mortgage money.
I stayed quiet when Paige cut me open with jokes and everyone told me not to make a scene.
And Paige stayed loud because no one had ever taught her how to be heard gently.
Different symptoms.
Same sickness.
Paige read the final lines.
“Baby girl, if you want attention, ask for love instead. If you want to be chosen, choose someone else first. And if you cannot say sorry today, at least start by telling the truth. Your sister is not your enemy. She is the witness God gave you so you would not have to survive this life unseen.”
When Paige finished, she lowered the page.
The chapel remained silent.
Nobody clapped.
Thank God.
