My uncle Wendell had on a navy suit that was probably thirty years old and he’d apologized to four separate people about it.That’s the register we were in. That’s what kind of family we are.
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Then my brother walked in.
Red Jacket. Red Trousers.
There was no way on earth not to notice him.
He came up the center aisle past my father’s casket looking like a man who’d taken a wrong turn out of a completely different event. A gala. A car dealership commercial. Anything but a funeral in a small chapel in eastern Pennsylvania on a Tuesday in March.
I heard somebody behind me say “oh my God” under their breath.I Pulled Him Aside the Second He Reached My Row
“Eric. What on earth are you wearing?”
He looked awful. I registered that even in the middle of being furious with him. He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t shaved. He looked like a man who’d been up for three days.“Sarah. Not now.”“Dad would have hated this.”
He Looked Right at Me
And he said, very quietly:“No. I don’t think he would have.”
