Theo stood at the microphone, staring at the coffin as if the rest of us had disappeared.
I wanted him to continue.
I was also afraid of what he might say.
Those two feelings sat side by side inside me, and neither would give way.
Daniel had stopped shifting in his seat.
He was watching Theo now, his anger giving way to confusion.
Theo rubbed one hand over his cheek.
"About half a year ago, Jack and I were in his bedroom watching a movie that was supposed to be scary."
A faint smile crossed his face.
"Jack kept telling me it was one of the best films ever made."
A few of Jack's friends laughed quietly.
"It wasn't."
The small laugh that followed sounded strange in the chapel.
But it also sounded familiar.
Jack had always been able to make people laugh at the wrong moment.
Sometimes he did it because he couldn't resist a joke.
Sometimes he did it because he could tell somebody was close to crying.
Theo took another breath.
"Jack had just come back from a hospital appointment that hadn't gone very well."
I looked down at my lap.
I remembered that stretch of time.
The appointments had begun to feel different.
At first, we had focused on the next treatment, the next scan, the next reason to believe things could turn around.
Then the doctors started discussing possibilities we didn't want to hear.
They were careful with their words.
We were careful with our questions.
Everyone seemed to understand that something had changed, even when nobody said it plainly.
Daniel and I had been away from home that afternoon.
Theo had been with Jack.
I had no idea they had talked about anything beyond the usual things.
Theo stared at the paper in his hands, though he hadn't unfolded it yet.
"Jack asked me a question."
He stopped.
I could see him working to keep his voice steady.
"He wanted to know whether I'd speak at his funeral."
The words seemed to take a moment to reach me.
Then they did.
I felt as if the air had been pulled out of the room.
Daniel slowly leaned back in his chair.
I turned toward him, but he was staring straight ahead.
Neither of us had known.
Theo let out a short, broken laugh.
"I got angry with him."
He shook his head at himself.
"I told him not to talk like that."
His eyes shone under the chapel lights.
"I kept saying he was going to get better, and I didn't want to hear anything else."
I pressed my fingertips together.
That was what we had done too.
We had encouraged Jack to talk about college.
We had discussed trips he might take when he felt stronger.
We had let ourselves imagine him returning to school, catching up with friends, and complaining about the ordinary problems of being eighteen.
We needed those possibilities.
Perhaps Jack knew that.
Perhaps he needed them himself.
Theo looked toward the coffin.
"Then I made a joke."
He wiped his face with the back of his hand.
"I told him I'd agree to speak at his funeral if he promised to wear a dress when it was my turn."
A few people smiled through their tears.
Theo gave a small nod, as if he could see the memory in front of him.
"Jack thought that was hilarious."
Of course he did.
My son could turn almost anything into a challenge.
He would have loved the idea of making Theo do something embarrassing, especially if he could arrange it years in advance.
Theo's mouth twitched, but the smile didn't last.
"Jack agreed to my deal."
He looked down at himself.
"Then he told me there was one condition."
I already knew what he was going to say.
I could see it in the way his shoulders moved.
"It had to be red."
A few guests turned to look at the dress again.
Theo shook his head.
"He said black would make me look like somebody who worked at a funeral home, and he didn't want me looking that serious."
A quiet laugh passed through the room.
It was small, almost apologetic.
But I laughed too.
For a second, I could picture Jack lying against his pillows, pale and tired, still finding enough energy to make fun of his best friend.
The picture hurt.
It also brought him closer.
Theo looked at the microphone.
"I told him there was no way I was doing it."
He paused.
"Then he asked me to promise."
The laughter disappeared.
Theo had stopped looking at the room.
He was looking only at Jack.
"I kept telling him he'd be fine. I said we'd never have to worry about any of this."
His voice cracked.
"But he wanted me to promise anyway."
I closed my eyes.
Six months before Jack died, my son had been thinking about his funeral.
While I was making grocery lists and checking appointment times, he had been asking his best friend to imagine a future in which he would no longer be there.
I couldn't decide which part hurt more.
That he had been frightened enough to ask.
Or that he had been considerate enough not to tell us.
Theo reached into the pocket of the dress.
That small movement caught my attention.
Even then, I noticed the pocket.
I remembered Jack complaining about clothes without pockets, particularly when he had to carry something small from one room to another.
He would have approved of the dress for that reason alone.
Theo pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
It had been creased several times, and he handled it carefully.
He looked toward me.
"Mrs. Harris, I should have told you about this before today."
I couldn't speak.
"I didn't know how to bring it up."
His voice became softer.
"I thought it might be better if I just came and did what I said I'd do."
He unfolded the paper.
My heart began beating harder.
I had seen Jack write notes like that before.
He used scraps of paper for reminders, jokes, and lists of things he intended to do later.
Some ended up in his pockets for weeks.
Others were stuck to his bedroom wall with tape.
I had no idea what Theo was holding.
He looked at the first line.
Then he began to read.
"Dear Theo, if you're holding this at my funeral, I guess things didn't go the way I wanted."
Theo paused and let out a shaky breath.
"That's embarrassing for me."
The chapel filled with a few soft laughs.
I covered my mouth.
It was Jack.
Not the illness.
Not the son we had watched grow weaker.
My boy, making a joke about his own death because he could not resist having the last word.
Theo continued reading.
"First, remember what you agreed to. Red dress. No excuses."
He looked down at the page and almost smiled.
"And don't chicken out because people might have opinions."
Daniel made a sound beside me.
It was part laugh, part sob.
He lowered his head and rubbed his eyes.
Theo moved his thumb along the edge of the paper.
The next lines were shorter.
He seemed to struggle with them more than the others.
"And don't start letting promises slide just because I can't be there to remind you."
Silence settled over the chapel.
I stared at the coffin.
I thought about the way Jack used to make Theo shake hands after a deal.
I thought about the ridiculous arguments they had over games and the way Jack insisted that every agreement counted, even when he had clearly changed the rules halfway through.
He had turned that same stubbornness into a request no one else knew about.
Theo folded the paper halfway, then opened it again.
"I almost didn't come."
His voice was quiet.
"My dad said people would get the wrong idea."
He glanced toward the back of the room.
"My mom thought it might upset you."
Then his face changed.
"My sister said I was being ridiculous."
A young woman sitting several rows behind him covered her mouth.
I recognized her from family gatherings and school events.
Emma.
Theo's sister.
She was looking at him with tears in her eyes.
Theo looked down at the dress.
"But she lent it to me anyway."
Emma nodded once.
It was such a small movement that I might have missed it if I hadn't been watching.
I suddenly understood that Theo had not simply put on the dress and walked out the door.
He had thought about it.
He had listened to people tell him not to do it.
He had imagined what we might think.
And he had come anyway.
Theo raised his head.
"I wasn't trying to turn Jack's funeral into something about me."
He looked directly at Daniel and me.
"I knew you were already hurting. I didn't want to add to that."
My husband sat very still.
Theo's eyes filled again.
"I just couldn't tell Jack I'd keep a promise and then break it when it mattered."
He stopped speaking.
For the first time since he had entered the chapel, I wasn't looking at his clothes.
I was looking at his face.
I saw a boy who had lost his best friend and was trying to do one thing he could still do for him.
He had no way to bring Jack back.
He couldn't make the doctors change their minds.
He couldn't return the months they had spent watching movies and finishing homework beside a hospital bed.
He could only keep his word.
And we had almost punished him for it.
My chair scraped against the floor as I stood.
Theo looked up.
His expression changed immediately.
He seemed to brace himself.
I saw his hands tighten around the paper, and I knew he expected me to tell him to stop.
I had spent the morning thinking that he had brought the wrong thing into the chapel.
Now I couldn't bear to let him stand there alone.
I walked toward him.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: I Walked Toward the Boy I Had Almost Sent Away, Knowing I Had Mistaken His Grief for Disrespect
I Thought My Son’s Best Friend Had Chosen the Worst Possible Day to Make Himself the Center of Attention
Part 2 of 12
