The chairs were filling up. Sophie, in a yellow dress, standing at the front, already crying. My sister and her husband. Dave and his wife, Dave in a tie so tight his face was red. Tommy, leaning on his good knee. Mark’s mother’s best friend, Joan, ninety-one years old in a wheelchair, who’d known Mark since he was born.
And Ray. In the front row. Holding his phone up already, ready to take a picture.
Of course.
Pastor Jim stood at the edge of the dock. He was old now too, white-haired and stooped. He’d married us the first time in my parents’ backyard. He smiled at me and gave me a little wave.
And beside him stood Mark.
He was wearing a dark gray suit. Not a rental this time. It actually fit. His hair was combed. He was standing very straight with his hands clasped in front of him.
