We get to the cemetery, mother guiding me to the right spot. Different part than the one we usually attended. All this time my stomach is my throat.
What if she is not there? Then I’ll wait for her until she arrives…
I know she is on her way; my gut tells me. My family has caused enough pain for her and this needs to stop now. Perhaps she won’t forgive me, but she might forgive her mother. She needs to know the whole story.
Flood of relief, like I never experienced before, washes over me as I see her black Mini parked ahead in front of us. I stop right behind it.
“Do you see her?” mother asks, pointing to the person standing approximately 100 feet to our right.
“Yes,” I recognize Madison. Her back is turned to us but that red hair radiates even through this gloomy day.
“Just go. I’ll call somebody to collect me,” she tells me.