- “Mrs. Harris, there’s something else you should know.”
- I turned toward him.
- “What is it?”
- “Jack didn’t want you to know that he sometimes thought he might die.”
- My throat tightened.
- “Why?”
- “Because he knew you and Mr. Harris needed hope.”
- I closed my eyes.
- “He was the one going through all of it.”
- “I know. I told him that.”
- “What did he say?”
- Theo smiled sadly.
- “He said, ‘Yeah, but Mom worries about everything.’”
- I laughed through my tears.
- That sounded like Jack.
- Theo continued.
- “He wasn’t pretending to believe he could get better. He genuinely wanted college, traveling, and all the things he’d always planned.”
- Then he paused.
- “He just understood there was a chance those things might not happen.”
- I looked at him.
- “Was he frightened?”
- Theo hesitated.
- Then nodded.
- “Sometimes.”
- I began crying again.
- He gently put an arm around my shoulders.
- “But not every day,” he added. “There were plenty of days when he was happy. He still laughed. He still made plans.”
- That mattered more than he could have known.
- Jack hadn’t spent his final months simply waiting for the worst.
- He’d experienced hope and fear together.
- And somehow, he’d made room for both.
- For a long time afterward, people remembered the red dress Theo wore to my son’s funeral.
- At first, that bothered me.
- I didn’t want Jack’s life reduced to an unusual story about his best friend.
- But eventually, I understood.
- The dress wasn’t really about Theo.
- It was evidence that even during the hardest months of his life, Jack had remained himself.
- Funny.
- Sarcastic.
- Stubborn.
- Thoughtful.
- And always ready with one more ridiculous joke.
- 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.
- Those moments happen less often now.
- But grief doesn’t disappear.
- It changes.
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