For a moment, I thought he was leaving.
Then he slowly walked toward the front of the chapel.
Caleb froze behind the microphone.
“Mr. Bennett?”
David stopped in front of him.
The whole room seemed to hold its breath.
My husband looked at the red dress.
Then at the boy who'd practically grown up in our home.
And he began crying.
“I'm sorry, son.”
Caleb's face crumpled.
David opened his arms.
Caleb stepped forward.
They embraced.
Not politely.
Not briefly.
My husband held that boy as though he were trying to hold on to a piece of Ethan.
And Caleb cried against his shoulder.
“I tried,” he sobbed. “I really tried.”
David held him tighter.
“I know.”
“I should've done it.”
David shook his head.
“You came today.”
Caleb cried harder.
And David whispered:
“Ethan would have loved it.”
I couldn't remain seated.
I walked toward them.
Then the three of us stood together beside my son's photograph.
