It still amazes me that Cory's treasured strand of pearls remained intact. All the other jewelry she was wearing on the day she died fell apart, and scattered from the impact. Her shoes, still tied when returned to me, mind you, were forced off her feet- one landed at one end of the scene and one at the other. But those pearls...
I wore them when I spoke at Western Michigan University last week, and I could feel her so close to me I could almost touch her. I think now of all she went through in her short life, and I realize those pearls are symbolic of something inside her that was too strong to be broken, no matter what came her way. They stood, intact, beautiful and blameless. So did she.
If this young woman, this girl, this child who turned into an adult right before my very eyes came from me, and if I helped shape her into who and what she was when she died, then it bears thinking that some of that strength might be in me, as well.
I will wear her pearls while I try to find it.
I love you, Cory, and there's not a moment that goes by that I don't ache for you. But I'll try to smile while I do it. It's what you would've done in my place. Sweet girl.
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