I could talk about the funeral.
I could talk about the hospital.
I could talk about the flowers and the phone calls and the endless people telling me that Dad was no longer suffering.
But saying, “My dad is gone,” was different.
It made everything feel permanent.
So when Nathan brought up my wedding one evening, I wasn’t prepared for what he was about to ask.
We were all sitting in my living room — Mom, Daniel, Nathan, and me.
Wedding invitations were spread across the coffee table.
Nathan had been looking at them for several minutes.
Finally, he looked at me.
“Can I do Dad’s job?”
I frowned.
“What job?”
He pointed toward the wedding invitation.
“At the wedding.”
I smiled because I thought he was joking.
“Dad didn’t have a job at the wedding, Nathan.”
He shook his head.
“No. Dad’s job.”
Then he stood up and walked a few steps toward me.
“Walking you.”
My smile disappeared.
He continued, carefully choosing his words.
“Down the middle part.”
For a few seconds, nobody spoke.
Then I understood.
He wanted to walk me down the aisle.
He wanted to do what Dad would have done.
My eyes immediately filled with tears.
