My late son’s best friend turned up at his funeral in a dress — my husband was already on his feet to walk him out, but then the boy got to the microphone and told us something about our own son we never knew.
My son’s best friend read the eulogy at his funeral in a red dress.
I have known Bran since he was seven. He lives four doors down.
He has slept in our spare room more times than I could count and he was at our table three Christmases running when things were bad at his house.
And when Gabe got ill, Bran was there every single day.
We found out late. Too late, as it turned out, and the treatment never got in front of it.
Fourteen months. And that boy sat on that bedroom floor through the whole of it. He did his homework there. He fell asleep there.
There were weeks when he saw my son more than I did.
So when he came in like that, I did not understand it.
