Theo tried returning the dress to his sister the following day.
She refused.
“Absolutely not. That dress has funeral memories attached to it now.”
So he kept it.
Years passed.
Theo is twenty-three now.
Last spring, Daniel and I attended his college graduation.
We sat beside his mother, watching him cross the stage in his cap and gown.
Afterward, he hurried toward us and wrapped us both in a hug.
Then he leaned close and whispered, “I almost wore red today.”
Daniel smiled.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Theo laughed.
For graduation, we gave him something that had belonged to Jack.
An ordinary black wristwatch.
It wasn’t expensive, but Jack had worn it almost every day before his illness.
Theo stared at it.
“I can’t accept this.”
I gently closed his fingers around it.
“Yes, you can. Jack would want you to have it.”
He cried.
So did I.
