The school had to face uncomfortable questions about why its first instinct had been to control an act of grief instead of understanding it.
And I still had mornings when I woke up expecting to hear Maya’s music coming through the wall.
But some things changed.
The yellow daisy was placed inside a glass frame with a copy of Maya’s letter.
It hangs beside our staircase now.
I pass it every morning.
The red dress stayed in Eli’s closet for almost a year.
Then, one afternoon, he brought it downstairs.
“I know what Maya would’ve hated.”
“What?”
“Us being scared to touch it.”
So we took it back to Westbridge High.
The school created a small remembrance display for former students who had died before graduation.
Maya’s dress became part of it.
Beside it sits a photograph of her wearing it in that little boutique.
Underneath is a simple card.
