I returned to my seat beside Daniel, who was openly crying.
Theo adjusted the microphone again.
“Actually, I prepared a proper eulogy,” he admitted.
He lifted several pages.
“Seven pages.”
Someone among Jack’s classmates called out, “Seriously, Theo?”
Theo laughed.
“Exactly. Jack would’ve complained before I finished the first one.”
He placed the pages aside.
“So I’m not reading them.”
Instead, he began sharing memories.
He described the afternoon when the boys accidentally broke our garage window with a hockey puck.
They spent hours inventing explanations before deciding to blame a bird.
Daniel had asked what sort of bird could possibly carry a hockey puck.
Jack answered, “A very strong one.”
Laughter filled the chapel.
Theo recalled how Jack regularly invented his own Monopoly rules and insisted cheating was impossible because the bank supposedly had insurance.
He remembered their first year of high school, when Theo became overwhelmed and hid in a bathroom stall.
