After the service, I stood beside the photographs we had arranged on a table near the entrance.
There was Jack at eight years old, standing in our garden with mud on his face and one shoe missing.
There was Jack at thirteen, holding a fishing rod he had no idea how to use.
There was Jack at sixteen, grinning beside Theo at a school event.
And there was a recent photograph taken before his final hospitalization. Jack looked thinner than he should have, but his smile was unmistakable.
People came to offer condolences.
Some hugged me. Others shook Daniel’s hand. A few told us how much they would miss Jack.
Then Daniel’s brother approached Theo.
He looked uncomfortable.
“Theo, can I talk to you?”
Theo turned toward him.
“Sure.”
Daniel’s brother glanced at the dress before looking away.
“I owe you an apology.”
Theo blinked.
“For what?”
“For judging you when you walked in. I assumed the worst before I knew anything.”
