“Families compromise,” I said.
“I know.”
“He was sick, Danny. He was emotional.”
“I agree.”
“Then what?”
Daniel braced himself.
“He said your whole life had become lists.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“Grocery lists. Medication lists. Things I needed in college. Things Dad needed for treatment. People’s birthdays. Appointments.”
He rubbed his face.
“He said he couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked what you wanted without already giving you choices.”
My chair scraped backward as I stood.
“Your father was dying. He didn’t need to spend his last months inventing reasons to feel guilty.”
Daniel stood too.
“He wasn’t asking me to make him feel better.”
“Then what did he want?”
Daniel went silent.
There it was again.
The silence that had swallowed four months of my son’s life.
“Danny.”
“He wanted me to give you the dress after he died.”
