And somehow, even then, he’d tried to solve it without asking me.
“So why wear the dress?”
Daniel gave a miserable little shrug.
“After Dad died, I almost didn’t come. Then I remembered what he said you’d do today.”
My hand stopped on the pink fabric.
“What?”
“Organize everything. Comfort everybody. Make sure everybody ate.”
I glanced toward the reception room.
Daniel gave me a sad smile.
“He was right.”
Then he tugged awkwardly at the pink skirt.
“I figured there was one thing you couldn’t organize your way around.”
Despite myself, I laughed.
“You walking into your father’s funeral dressed like me at 23?”
“Exactly,” he said.
My laughter collapsed into tears.
Daniel knelt beside me.
“I’m sorry I stayed away, Mom.”
“I’m angry you did. But I understand why.”
He nodded.
Then, very quietly, he said, “I knew all Dad’s stories.”
