“Our father couldn’t be here with us today,” she said softly.
Then Ava reached into the sleeve of her graduation gown and carefully withdrew a neatly folded sheet of paper.
The auditorium fell completely silent.
Claire’s eyes immediately widened.
One trembling hand flew to her mouth.
Beside her, June stepped forward, gently taking the paper from Ava before turning toward the audience.
“We found something he left for us,” June said, her voice barely above a whisper.
She slowly unfolded the worn page.
The paper was creased with age, its edges softened from being opened and closed countless times.
She took a steadying breath.
Then she began reading the very first sentence.
The instant those words reached my ears, everything around me disappeared.
The applause.
The cheering.
The hundreds of people filling the auditorium.
It all faded into silence.
My knees suddenly gave way beneath me.
I collapsed onto the polished floor, unable to remain standing for another second.
