She had been a highly loved teacher at the local school for the past two years. Even when she was pregnant, she couldn’t stay away. Those who predicted her death, because she wasn’t one meant for childbearing, blamed her sudden ending on her husband, Dr. Emmanuel Reagan. The day of the funeral, he turned forty. He felt and looked decades older and the weather attempted to emulate his mood. He dressed in black and the sky became the darkest gray it could without becoming ebony. The expression on his face made even his closest acquaintances question if they’d ever seen him smile. Emmanuel was an only child and he’d been orphaned at a young age, having been left under the care of his elderly aunt. Since he was too young to remember his parent’s funerals, both of which passed on a year apart, he hadn’t a memory of the sadness surrounding such occasions. He understood how his mother could die of heartache, though, because he felt overwhelmed by his emotions. Emmanuel glanced at the gravestones beside his departed wife, seeing the names of his parents, Jonah and Opal, who’d both died in their thirties.
