I remember the ensuing months vaguely. I had dreams that would shake me from sleep and leave me gasping for breath. There were a few times I swore I saw Neil standing in a crowd but when I looked back he was gone. I was told this was a normal occurrence accompanying grief. It was just your brain registering loss.

My brother Charlie was expelled from Wellton. After his death, Neil's parents went looking for someone to blame, as if it was another's finger that had pulled the trigger and not his own. The headmaster scoured the school to find a scapegoat. The kind, radical teacher, Mr. Keating was the victim, as were the members of the Dead Poet's Society. The Judas of the group, whose name I do not care to write, did not think of me as a true member because of my sex so I was not summoned. Charlie had always had a temper and took out his anger on the ratter. He was sent home the next day.

In February of 1960, the second month of a new decade, the headmaster Dr. Nolan passed away. He went into cardiac arrest and died before help could come. I did not dislike Dr. Nolan but Charlie had never been fond of the old man.

The new headmaster had not been present during the dead poet's episode, so when he went through the paper work on it he was appalled to find out what the boys had been made to do. He invited Charlie back to the school and my father took his up on the offer, glad to get my brooding brother out of the house.

And where was I?

I tried to go back to school, but my dreams kept me from getting sleep and awoke those around me. After about the fourth week of me bringing down the dorms with my screams, the headmistress thought it would be best if I went home for a few weeks. The weeks turned to months but Traster-Collins did not demand my attendance.

Nowadays, they would have labeled my condition. I would have gone to a doctor who would ask me questions, jot a few notes and give me a few medications to heal my mind. However, my father did not send me to any doctors. He talked with me infrequently, between business and what not. He had always felt guilty about me being the one who found my mother. Now he had no desire to watch his only daughter fade away, getting paler and paler, skinnier and skinnier.

June was a welcome release from the cold, indifferent first months of the year. My brother graduated then.

I stood next to my father on the green lawn of Wellton as Charlie ascended the steps of enlightenment, and with a smirk, took his diploma. He looked back at us; his mouth spreading into a smile for me, his eyebrows arching in a challenge to my father. Charlie liked to prove people wrong. It was a part of his nature.

My white dress and straw sun hat made me look like a ghost in the summer of her youth. I clapped with gloved hands as the class of 1960 rejoiced their freedom.

There had been a memorial to Neil that Todd had read. I tried to not listen or remember. Isolation and forgetfulness helped me cope.

But I could not block out what could have been.

While ice tea and cucumber sandwiches were served, I ventured into the dorms. They were empty except for a few girl starved students who stared and whistled as I made my way through the halls. I found the room that had been Neil's and pushed the door.

It creaked as it opened. I could see the early summer sun streaming in through the glass pane of the single window. Like a moth, I was drawn to it, not taking in the rest of the room. That was probably why I didn't see Todd standing by Neil's desk, his hands resting on the chair.

I did not realize his presence till he cleared his throat. I turned with sunlight and dust swirling around me.

Neither of us spoke for a long time.

Its amazing how knowing just one person intimately can connect you with another who felt the same way about them. I did not even realize what I was doing till my feet were crossing the room by themselves and my arms wrapping around his silent, tall figure. What surprised me more was that he returned the embrace without hesitation. The movement made my hat fall to the floor.

There were no words needed for a long time, his face buried in my shoulder. I could feel his body shake as he cried. I soon found myself weeping as well. We both had suffered from grievous loss and had not met another yet who felt the same. He backed away, his eyes red and cheeks damp.

"He left something," He said, his voice stronger than I had ever heard, "For us."

He picked up a dog eared book on the desk and led me by the hand to Neil's bed. We sat on the floor beside it as he handed me the volume. It was his beloved script, A Midsummer Night's Dream, his lines marked up with blocking notes and doodles. I flipped through it, a paper falling out as I did. It crinkled as I opened it.

It was Neil's hand writing, scrawled in pencil neatly between the lines.

"I long for weight and strength, to feel the earth as rough to all my length."

I want to know that you write your poetry, that you smile, travel, laugh, love. I want to know that you have children so you go on forever. Never stop living because I have.

I felt angry tears well. Why did he leave us? Why?

"He wanted us to be happy, Rachael," Todd said quietly, as I let the paper fall from my hands.

"Happy?" I snorted, "He had no right to leave us like he did."

I stood and clutched my arms, my hands were shaking. Todd stood and took my trembling fingers with strength and courage I had never seen him possess. A change had come over Todd in the past months.

"No he didn't," He said quietly, pushing a strand of hair from my face and behind my ear, "But he did. And we have to accept that and honor his dying wishes."

I nodded, his finger lingering longer on my face than it had to. I looked up and found that his eyes were kind. They weren't intense, searching and dark like Neil's. Todd had gentle, understanding eyes, the kind that you always want your father to have. He drew away from me and walked over to the window, his hands in his pockets.

"I want to see the cave again," I spoke softly.

"Ok," He turned, sunlight crowning his head.

We walked across the long field, side by side but not touching. The sky spread out above us, a blanket of blue coating the world. The crickets and katydids were singing in the early evening. The forest was musty with the damp earth and budding leaves. We held hands like children as we climbed the slight incline up to the grotto.

Winter had not changed it. This place was constant. While the world lived, died, evolved, altered around it, this place was sacredly steadfast. My bare feet drunk in the moist peace of the earth.

"It's so quiet here," Todd said reverently, as if we were in a chapel.

"It's beautiful."

It seemed that the silence did not need words so we said none for a long time. The setting sun poured gold on the floor.

"Rachael," Todd walked up beside me, "I cannot begin to tell you how jealous I was of Neil."

I turned to him, arching my eyebrows.

"I loved him like a brother, he was my best friend. But I was envious of him."

"Why?"

"He had everything I lacked. Charisma, ambition, bravery, and..." He seemed to have a hard time with this last quality, "You."

"Me?" I asked, softly wondering how long he had thought this.

"Yes, you." He chuckled quietly, turning red, "I know that speech was cheesy, but I guess I couldn't put it any other way," He rubbed his neck, obviously awkward.

I smiled softly and reached out with a hand, my gloves discarded in my hat in Neil's room, and set it on his shoulder.

"Someday, Todd." I said quietly, "Someday, we can start over." He looked up, hopefully.

I gave him a full smile as I took his hand and led him out into the light.