I actually turned to the boys sitting near me and started asking questions. Did something happen? Did they argue? Was this about something? Nobody knew. Everyone was staring at Wes. Part of me thought he had done it on purpose, choosing my son\u2019s funeral to attract attention. I didn\u2019t know whether to ask someone to take him outside or simply sit through it.<\/p>\n
My husband, Russell, stood up without saying a word. I grabbed his sleeve because I knew exactly what he intended to do. Then Wes walked toward the podium. He stood silently while people whispered behind me. Finally, he looked across the room. \u201cI know half of you want me out of here right now,\u201d he said, struggling to continue.<\/p>\n
He looked down at his bright red dress. \u201cAnd I know how this looks. It isn\u2019t even mine. I borrowed it from my sister. The reason I\u2019m standing here in it is very simple. And it\u2019s the saddest thing I know.\u201d He pulled the microphone closer, swallowed hard, and began speaking.<\/p>\n
My son, Miles, died seventeen days after his eighteenth birthday. Cancer had taken him fourteen months after his diagnosis. Those facts could never explain the boy we had lost. Miles loved old horror movies, burned grilled cheese, hated tomatoes, and somehow put ketchup on everything. He could name almost every world capital but never remembered his laundry.<\/p>\n
\n THE STORY CONTINUES ON THE NEXT PAGE… \ud83d\udc47\ud83d\udc47\ud83d\udc47\n <\/p>\n