My daughter Emma brought a life-size cardboard cutout of a boy to her graduation. Her classmates laughed, and the principal threatened to stop her from receiving her diploma. But when she handed him a folded letter, his expression changed completely.
“Emma, please tell me you’re not taking that thing to graduation,” I said as she carefully adjusted the blue graduation cap on the cardboard boy.
“I need to do this myself, Mom,” she replied.
I wanted to stop her. I knew how cruel teenagers could be, but I also knew why she had made the cutout.
Two years earlier, Emma’s twin brother, Felix, had died from a heart condition at just sixteen. They had always dreamed of graduating together, competing over who would cross the stage first.
After Felix died, Emma struggled with her grief. She kept his belongings and rarely spoke about her future. But as graduation approached, she tried to find a way to honor him.
