Eulogy for Miss F young Eulogy I: The Way She Waved She did not part the Red Sea, nor shake the earth with prophecy. But when she turned at the wheel, waved at a boy waiting in the schoolyard, she opened a heaven. A small car. A setting sun. The hush of playground gravel. And her voice—maybe it said "Bye Robert," maybe it said nothing at all. But the love was audible, thick as honey in the summer air. She saw you. In a time when boys like you had to wear armor under their smiles, she saw through it— and demanded nothing less than your full, sacred self. Not in sermons. Not in great proclamations. But in how she stood by the swings, how her laughter invited you to grow taller. You do not remember every word. You do not need to. The soul remembers the kindness that steadies it. She waved once. And in that gesture, she gave you your first benediction.