Theo paused to steady himself.
“I kept telling him he was going to recover. I said there wouldn’t be any funeral.”
His voice broke.
“He said he hoped I was right.”
The entire chapel became silent.
“But then he asked me to promise anyway.”
My hands began trembling.
Jack had never told Daniel or me about that conversation.
He’d continued discussing college, traveling, and everything he wanted to do once his treatments were finished.
We’d clung to those plans because imagining the alternative was unbearable.
Yet six months before he died, he’d quietly asked his best friend to prepare for something none of us wanted to face.
Theo wiped his cheeks.
“I thought refusing would make him feel more frightened. So I promised.”
Then he reached into the pocket of his dress.
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
Jack would have loved the fact that the dress had pockets.
Theo unfolded a small piece of paper.
“And I know some of you might think I’m making this up. But Jack wrote it down.”
My head lifted immediately.
Theo looked toward me.
“Mrs. Harris, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this before today. I wanted to, but I didn’t know how.”
He began reading.
“Theo, if you’re reading this because I didn’t make it, that’s pretty embarrassing for me.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the chapel.
Even through my grief, I recognized Jack’s unmistakable humor.
Theo continued.
“First, you promised. Red dress. And don’t change your mind just because some of my relatives are going to judge you.”
Daniel made a sound somewhere between laughter and crying.
A few people glanced toward his brother.
Then Theo read the final instruction.
“And don’t start breaking promises just because I’m not around to remind you.”
He lowered the paper.
“I nearly didn’t come today.”
His voice became quiet.
“My dad told me people would misunderstand. My mom thought it would upset everyone. My sister said it was a ridiculous idea.”
He looked down at the dress.
“But she lent it to me anyway.”
A young woman near the back of the chapel covered her mouth.
Theo’s sister.
Then he looked directly at Daniel and me.
“I wasn’t trying to disrespect Jack. I was just trying to keep the promise I made him.”
Tears rolled down his cheeks.
“I never wanted to make this day harder for you.”
That was when I couldn’t remain seated any longer.
Just minutes earlier, I’d been thinking about asking Theo to leave.
Now I realized he’d been sitting quietly among us, terrified that honoring his friend’s final request might hurt the people he loved.
I stood and walked toward the podium.
Theo froze.
For a second, he seemed to think I was coming to stop his speech.
Instead, I wrapped my arms around him.
He was taller than me now.
I remembered the little boy who’d once arrived at our house with missing front teeth and muddy sneakers.
Now he bent toward me and began sobbing.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
I held him tighter.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I should have explained.”
“You’re explaining now.”
“I didn’t want to upset you.”
“You haven’t.”
I gently touched his shoulder.
“Please finish, Theo. Tell us what Jack wanted everyone to hear.”
He nodded.
I returned to my seat beside Daniel, who was openly crying.
Theo adjusted the microphone again.
“Actually, I prepared a proper eulogy,” he admitted.
He lifted several pages.
“Seven pages.”
Someone among Jack’s classmates called out, “Seriously, Theo?”
Theo laughed.
“Exactly. Jack would’ve complained before I finished the first one.”
He placed the pages aside.
“So I’m not reading them.”
Instead, he began sharing memories.
He described the afternoon when the boys accidentally broke our garage window with a hockey puck.
They spent hours inventing explanations before deciding to blame a bird.
Daniel had asked what sort of bird could possibly carry a hockey puck.
Jack answered, “A very strong one.”
Laughter filled the chapel.
Theo recalled how Jack regularly invented his own Monopoly rules and insisted cheating was impossible because the bank supposedly had insurance.
He remembered their first year of high school, when Theo became overwhelmed and hid in a bathroom stall.
Jack sat outside the door, pretending they were deliberately skipping class, until Theo felt ready to return.
Then Theo’s expression softened.
“When Jack became sick, everyone started telling him how brave he was.”
He paused.
“Honestly, he hated that.”
I smiled through my tears.
Jack had once complained that being sick didn’t automatically make him courageous.
Theo continued.
“He said cancer wasn’t something he’d chosen. It was something happening to him.”
His fingers tightened around the podium.
“But I think Jack was brave in a different way.”
He looked toward Daniel and me.
“He understood that his treatments might not work before most of us were ready to accept that possibility.”
My eyes filled again.
“And even while he was frightened, he kept trying to make everyone around him feel less afraid.”
Theo gently touched the red dress.
“This wasn’t just Jack teasing me.”
He smiled faintly.
“Well, maybe it was partly that.”
A few people laughed.
“But I think he also wanted to make one last choice for himself.”
The words struck me deeply.
During his illness, Jack had lost control over so many ordinary things.
School.
His appearance.
His appetite.
His independence.
Even the plans he’d made for his future.
But he’d chosen this strange, unforgettable moment.
A red dress.
A ridiculous promise.
A joke that would finally make sense months later.
Theo looked toward the coffin one last time.
“So this is for you, Jack.”
He glanced down at himself.