Theo unfolded the paper. His hands were shaking so badly the paper rattled against the microphone.
He started reading.
“Theo. If you’re reading this because I didn’t make it, that’s pretty embarrassing for me.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the whole chapel.
Even through my grief, I could hear it. My son’s voice. His exact sense of humor.
Theo kept reading.
“First. You promised. Red dress. And do NOT chicken out just because some of my relatives are going to judge you. Uncle Rick especially.”
Daniel made a sound next to me. Something between a laugh and a sob.
A bunch of people turned around and looked at Rick.
Rick turned bright red.
Theo read the last line.
“And don’t start breaking promises just because I’m not around to remind you.”
He lowered the paper.
“I almost didn’t come today,” he said quietly.
“My dad told me people would misunderstand. My mom said it would upset everybody. My sister said it was the dumbest idea she’d ever heard.”
He looked down at the dress.
“But she lent it to me anyway.”
In the very back row, a young woman with long dark hair put her hand over her mouth.
Theo’s sister. Emma.
Then Theo looked straight at Daniel and me.
“I wasn’t trying to disrespect Jack,” he said. “I would never, ever do that. I was just trying to keep the promise I made him.”
Tears were running down his face.
“I never wanted to make today harder for you. I’m so sorry if I did.”
That’s when I couldn’t sit there anymore.
Twenty minutes earlier, I’d been ready to ask somebody to walk this boy out of my son’s funeral.
And all that time, he’d been sitting alone at the end of the third row, terrified. Terrified that keeping his best friend’s last wish would hurt the people he loved most.
I stood up.
I walked to the front of the chapel.
Theo froze. For one second, I think he thought I was coming to stop him.
Instead, I put my arms around him.
He’s so much taller than me now. I had to reach up.
And I remembered the little boy who showed up on my porch eleven years ago with two missing front teeth and muddy sneakers and a Godzilla backpack.
He bent down. He put his face on my shoulder. And he sobbed.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Harris.”
I held on tighter.
“You have nothing to apologize for, honey.”
“I should’ve told you.”
“You’re telling me now.”
“I didn’t want to upset you.”
“You haven’t,” I said. “You haven’t.”
I pulled back and looked up at him. I fixed his crooked prom tie.
“Please finish, Theo,” I said. “Tell us what Jack wanted everybody to hear.”
He nodded.
I walked back to my seat. Daniel was crying openly now. He reached over and took my hand.
Sophia Rivers is an experienced News Content Editor with a sharp eye for detail and a passion for delivering accurate and engaging news stories. At TheArchivists, she specializes in curating, editing, and presenting news content that informs and resonates with a global audience.
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