When my son’s best friend arrived at his funeral wearing a bright red dress, I was so upset that I nearly asked someone to escort him outside.

My husband was already standing, ready to confront him. But when the young man stepped up to the microphone and explained why he’d dressed that way, the entire chapel went silent. What he revealed about my son’s final months changed everything I thought I knew.

“I realize many of you are wondering why I’m dressed like this,” Theo began.

His voice trembled.

He stood before the mourners in a simple, knee-length red dress, his hands gripping the sides of the podium.

Then he looked toward my son’s coffin.

“Believe me, this wasn’t my idea. I borrowed it from my sister.”

A few guests exchanged uncomfortable glances.

Theo swallowed.

“But there’s a reason I’m wearing it. And it has everything to do with Jack.”