The request was declined.
She then asked whether she could carry a small photograph of him while receiving her diploma.
The principal replied that the ceremony needed to follow the same rules for everyone.
Each time she came home with another refusal, I watched her place the printed email in a folder.
“Let me call him,” I offered.
“No.”
“Emma, I could explain—”
“I have explained, Mom.”
She said it without anger, which somehow made it hurt more.
“I told him Felix wasn’t asking for a diploma. I told him I wasn’t asking for a special award. I just wanted his name remembered.”
“What did he say?”
“That he understood.”
She looked down at the folder.
“But he still said no.”
I assumed she would eventually give up. Graduation was approaching, and I wanted my daughter to enjoy the day she had worked so hard to reach.
I didn’t understand that, to Emma, giving up felt like abandoning her brother for the second time.
