Epilogue
The Pacific Ocean glittered beyond the rolling hills. Oak trees provided a perfect canopy. Blooming flowers decorated the entire sprawl of grass. There was no other way to describe this venue other than beautiful.
A word I’d never thought I’d use for the cemetery where Mom was buried.
I polished her marker until it gleamed. Rearranged the yellow roses until not even Mandy Whitmore could present them better. And when old instincts pressed to clear out some weeds, I reminded myself of something.
Weeds were flowers, too.
“You could never pass a dandelion or four-leaf clover without making a wish, so…” My lips trembled. “I’m leaving them wreathed around you, right where they are.”
I took my hands back to her marker, brushed my fingertips over Lucia Torres.
Over Beloved Wife and Mother.
“I’m sure Po caught you up on the chisme yesterday.” Po started coming here regularly. She said she liked telling Mom about her newest SBA fundraiser recipes, the classes she was excited to take at Alma next fall, and her Disneyland adventures with Paulina. “I’m sure Dad will tell you about his LARP updates when he comes to visit you before work tomorrow.”
My phone chimed from my back pocket. “Speak of the Jedi,” I said, smiling at the picture of Dad at Galaxy’s Edge, building a new lightsaber. One with a yellow blade.
“As for me,” I continued, “SBA’s putting the finishing touches on winter formal prep.” I pulled my legs to my chest, resting my cheek against a knee. “Yes, I’m going with Javi. And no, I didn’t get the dance to be Frozen themed.” I flicked at blades of grass. “Somehow Wes got everyone to vote for it to be Fast and Furious XV themed.”
My sigh transformed into a chuckle.
“Guess I can’t get away from quincea?eras, huh? Speaking of quinces, I’m formally inviting you to one, but first”—I pulled a small birthday candle and lighter from my utility bag, setting them on the grass before reaching back in for a folded page—“I was hoping we could practice this together.”
Through misty eyes, I read, “I want to thank everyone for coming and helping me celebrate my unquince. Tonight, Dad put a new pair of loafers on me. I’m sure Po tried her hardest to hide my planner—
“Pause for laughter,” I told myself, drawing the pencil from the back of my ear. It’d transformed into a magic wand anyway, not with Mandy’s fairy dust, but with my new drawings. With this new thank-you speech.
I skimmed the eraser end over my tightening throat and continued. “After finding it, I’ll set it aside for the rest of the night.” A deep breath. “These rituals will mark my transition from child to adult. Even if we didn’t have these traditions, I know I’d still be standing here in all of my adulthood. Because one person, above all, has taught me how.” My heart stretched. “Mom, your light illuminates everything it touches…”
I lit the candle, reading her the rest of the speech. The candlelight flickered on Mom’s marker until I got to the end. I thought of Po, of Dad… of me.
I blew the candle out.
The flame was gone. Mom’s light wasn’t.
I folded the speech back into my utility bag and grabbed hold of the invitation to my unquince. I set it on her marble marker. “You’ll be there, right?”
All at once a flurry of birdsong rang from the trees, exactly like when Princess Aurora danced to “Once upon a Dream” with the forestland critters.
I cracked up, pressing my palm to the earth.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”