In that instant, I realized that she had felt cheated when an illness had ended her life. One by one, her family had followed her here, to the final place that they would be together. Most had been ready for the last sleep, tired of the struggle. But not she. Rebecca was waiting. For me.

I left the cemetery then, and back to the Mill Park to sit by the edge of the St. Joe River, whose banks were famous for breathtaking color, and grappled with the rush of thoughts that had seized me that day.

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