Cleanly, wholly done, in a way I could feel settle into my bones even as I stood there — the particular lightness of setting down a weight you have been carrying so long you forgot it was heavy.

I did not have a speech left.

I did not need the last word; I already had it.

What I had, instead, waiting near the side of the room where I had asked a trusted friend to keep them during the recording, were the only three people in that hall who actually mattered to me.

I crossed the room, past the frozen groom, past the silenced guests, past the ruined head table, and I went to my children.

I took Ben’s hand.