His hands trembled.
His voice didn’t.
“My twin sister, Mary, was supposed to graduate with me today.”
The silence deepened.
“She picked this dress after one of her hospital appointments. She died before she could wear it.”
Someone began crying.
Aaron continued.
“Before she died, she made me promise that I wouldn’t let this dress stay in a closet. She wanted Mom to see both of us graduate.”
He held up the pressed flower.
“She picked this outside the hospital on the day we bought the dress. She asked me to give it to our mom today.”
Aaron looked across the auditorium.
“I knew some of you would laugh.”
Several students lowered their heads.
“I almost didn’t do it because of that.”
Then he looked directly at me.
“But Mary was more afraid of being forgotten than I was afraid of being laughed at.”
That was when the entire room changed.
