I was always prepared to be the first one to die. I married a woman who was fifteen years younger than me and she was funny, fun and beautiful, and she died anyway. I thanked God everyday for my daughter and son because they were the only things that kept me alive. They were the reasons why I got up everyday and did everything that I've done.

What a fine boy my Jem had grown up to be: a local football star and a WW2 veteren. I thought if my son could survive the war he could survive anything. He was finally ready to settle down when he was back on his home turf again. He finished his law degree and wound up engaged to a pretty and polite girl in town. He had begun to work with me in my law office and he was turning up to be a good laywer if I do say so myself.

Like his mother, he died anyway.

I thought I've had the worst day of my life many times: the day my wife died; the day Tom Robinson lost his trial and the day he died; the day my children were attacked by Bob Ewell. I was wrong about all of them, hard as they were. The day I found my son dead on the sidewalk outside my law office was the worst day of my life.

Me and my daughter, Jean Louise, grieved together for the first time in twenty years. Grieved over the fact that someone so close to us and someone we loved so dearly had died. Not saying that other family members didn't but I was always so particularly close to my daughter that I could match her feelings better than anybody could. I understood her grief and she understood mine and their was nothing but mutual love and respect amongst ourselves with how we chose to get through this.

Truth be told, I don't know how my daughter is still doing as far as her grief goes but I still feel it. A year later and I still have to remind myself to breathe everytime I hear his name; there are times when I can't think about him without crying; and there are certainly days where I can't help but wonder about the man he would have become if he stayed with me.

I'll never be the same.

It was Christmas Eve night and I decided to take a walk to the cemetary. It was already dark and my body aches but I was going to see my son. I had bought a bouquet of red roses for him and I was going to lay them on his headstone. He always loved the color red and I thought christmas wreaths were an overdone item at Christmas anyway. Nevermind the fact that roses were my late wife's favorite flower. At least they have each other up there.

My son's headstone glows in the dark because it's so new. The graveyard workers do a good job at keeping this place neat and polished. I chuckle to myself that maybe it's his guiding light to me. Oh, seeing his name in stone will never get easier.

Jeremy Atticus "Jem" Finch

1923-1953

Beloved Son, Brother, and Lover

It was all true.

"Merry Christmas, son," I begin as I place his roses by his name. "Sorry I haven't come around much but it' still hard. I have a feeling you understand. Hank went to go pick up your sister at the train station and your aunt went back to the Landing so it's just me. I miss you so much. A day doesn't go by where I don't think about you at least once. The one thing I hate myself for is the fact I never freely said how much I loved you. I wish I could have said it more often when you were alive instead of here..."

Hot water sprang into my eyes out of nowhere. Snot ran down my nose faster than I could grab my hankerchief out of my pocket. A wail shot out of me that I couldn't control. I was finally having the breakdown I should have had when this all first happened.

Something miraculous happened before I lost all control: a red light flashed in my face. A loud chirp rang in my ears as I saw a bright, beautiful red cardinal fly around my son's grave. Tears still streamed down my face as I laughed. My beautiful son was showing me that he was here and that he was okay. I couldn't have asked for a better christmas present than the one I was getting now. I looked on until the cardinal flew away and that was when I decided that I should go, too.

"I'll be heading out, too. I love you. Goodnight, my angel."