The Epilogue

The Girl Who Loved The Moon
Epilogue

As I stood on the grass, I knew that I had done the right thing. I had learned all I could about Joanna before, well, before. And I knew that what I was doing now would change what would happen in my life.

"We are gathered here tonight to mourn the life and death of a young girl." I said. "She was brave and daring, but her life might have ended long before now if it wasn't for one person here tonight. The moon." I said, waiting until the gasps had died away. I told Joanna's story to the crowd. Every word of it. I even told them what I had learned from her. I felt the tears drip down my face. I turned and grasped the sheet. I pulled it.

It was covering a headstone. But not an ordinary headstone. This one was a normal ovular rock. On the smooth face it read:

'Joanna Heather. Birth 1994, Death 2007. Child of Mary and David Heather.'

Underneath those words, I had carved something in myself with a chisel lent to me by one of the carvers. I had carefully carved in six words. The penmanship was a bit hard to read, but it was legible. I smiled when I read it out loud.

"The girl who loved the moon."