“What is he doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“This is Jack’s funeral.”
“I know.”
He started to stand.
I grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t.”
“He’s wearing a dress.”
“I can see that.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel’s face was raw from 17 days of barely sleeping.
Mine probably looked the same.
Grief makes you less patient with mystery.
Everything feels like one more insult you don’t have room to absorb.
Then Theo’s name was announced for the eulogy.
I had forgotten he was supposed to speak.
He stood.
The whispers followed him all the way to the microphone.
Now he was staring at the coffin.
He pulled the microphone closer.
“About six months ago, Jack and I were watching this terrible movie in his room.”
A tiny smile appeared.
