My Son Walked Across the Graduation Stage in a Bright Red Dress While the Auditorium Giggled — He Did It for Me.nb And I Begged Him Not To
The whispering started before he was halfway to the principal.
Then the giggles. Then a boy somewhere behind me who did not bother lowering his voice at all: “What is WRONG with that guy?”
Cal didn’t flinch. Not once. I was watching for it and it never came.
He shook Dr. Odom’s hand, took his diploma, and turned and faced six hundred people who were laughing at him.
I was in the third row.
And I was the only person in that auditorium who knew why he was wearing it.
I need to tell you about my daughter.
Willa Tarrant was born in June of 1998 and she died on the seventeenth of May, 2016, at seventeen years old, on a track at a meet in Corvel, in front of about two hundred people.
