His World
Larry Lefkowitz






At the funeral, I couldn’t decide whether to bury with John the pin in the shape of a globe of the world suspended by a small chain which he had given me. In the end, I reasoned that it was too precious a reminder of him to do so. I kept it in my pocket, fingering it sadly during the ceremony.

As I turned from the grave following the burial, I passed a woman who still stood there, dabbing at her cheek with a handkerchief. But what caused me to almost faint on the spot was the pin she wore. A globe of the world suspended by a small chain – identical to that I felt in my pocket.

After I recovered from the shock, I approached her. “Excuse me, where did you get that pin?” I asked breathlessly.

“From John. A gift.”

I reached into my pocket, my hand shaking, and took out my pin. I held it up. The globe swayed gently on its chain.

We both were rooted to the ground in shock.

I was the first to break the silence.”John told me he had this pin designed especially for me.”

“He told me the same thing,” she stammered.

“He told me when he gave it to me that I meant the world to him,” I said.

“He used the exact same words when he gave me mine,” she replied, almost in a whisper.

I slid my arm into hers. “We have a lot to talk about,” I said.

She nodded.

We left the cemetery arm-in-arm.  


First published: February 2018
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