A dress.
A faded pink dress that fell awkwardly below his knees, stretched across his shoulders, and looked even more absurd above his black dress shoes.
Whispers moved through the room.
Someone gasped.
“Daniel.”
He looked at me.Order Custom Logos
I hurried down the aisle.
“Danny, what are you doing?”
He didn’t answer.
“Why are you dressed like that at your father’s funeral?”
He stared at the casket for a moment, then walked past me.
Straight to Richard.
Daniel placed both hands on the casket.Clothing
“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”
He bent over the casket and cried with a helplessness I hadn’t seen since he was a child.
Nobody whispered anymore.
I stood behind him, stunned.
Whatever the dress meant, it wasn’t mockery.
After the service, people surrounded me.
“I’m so sorry, Tisha.”Find Grief Counseling
