Epilogue: The Love That Waited
Three days later, Grandma passed peacefully with one of Henry’s letters pressed against her heart.
At the funeral, my mother held my hand tightly and thanked me for being braver than she had been.
I told her we had both been trying to protect Grandma, only in different ways. She had protected the past. I had protected the wish Grandma still had the courage to speak before time ran out.
Henry stood beside us holding the old prom photograph, looking at it as if every lost year lived inside that small piece of paper.
Watching him, I understood something I would carry forever.
Love does not always disappear with time.
Sometimes it waits quietly in letters, in songs, in unfinished dances, and in names people are afraid to say out loud.
Sometimes it waits until someone is brave enough to open the box, drive the road, knock on the door, and bring it home.
