thing I knew how to do.
A rustle moved through the chapel.
I looked up.
The doors had opened.
Daniel stood there.
For half a second, all I saw was my son.
A rustle moved through the chapel.
Then I saw what he was wearing.
Pink.
Not a pink shirt.
Not some strange suit.
A dress.
A woman’s faded pink dress that fell awkwardly below his knees, stretched across his shoulders, and looked even more absurd above his black dress shoes.
Then I saw what he was wearing.
Whispers moved through the room.
Someone behind me gasped.
My face went hot.
“Daniel.”
He looked at me.
His eyes were swollen.
I hurried down the aisle.
“Danny, what are you doing?”
He didn’t answer.
“Danny, what are you doing?”
“Why are you dressed like that at your father’s funeral?”
He stared at the casket for a second.
Then he walked past
