He had
apparently approached reconciliation exactly the same way.
Later, I found Eric sitting alone on a cemetery bench.
The letter was still in his hands.
I sat beside him.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Finally, Eric shook his head.
“He planned all of this.”
“Yes.”
“The hidden bookcase alone must have taken forever.”
“Probably.”
Then I asked the question that had been bothering me.
“Why red?”
Eric looked down at the jacket.
“That’s in the letter.”
Dad had ordered the suit specifically for him.
Why?
Because Dad had spent years watching Eric make himself smaller whenever he entered rooms where he feared he wasn’t wanted.
Dad didn’t want that happening at his funeral.
He wanted his son visible.
Impossible to overlook.
The note attached to the suit essentially told Eric to put it on and enter as though he belonged there.
Because he did.
