Those words broke my heart.
During his illness, Jack had lost so much control over his life: his appearance, his independence, his appetite, and the future he had imagined.
But he had chosen this moment.
A red dress. A ridiculous promise. One last joke.
Theo looked toward the coffin.
“You win, buddy. And for the record, I absolutely hate wearing this thing.”
His sister called from the back, “You look wonderful!”
The chapel erupted in laughter, and even Daniel and I smiled.
After the service, people hugged Theo and apologized for judging him. Later, I found him standing beside Jack’s photographs.
“There’s something else you should know,” he said. “Jack didn’t want you to know he sometimes thought he might die. He knew you needed hope.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“Was he frightened?” I asked.
“Sometimes,” Theo replied. “But not every day. He still laughed. He still made plans. He genuinely believed he might recover, even though he understood there was a chance he wouldn’t.”
