A Scare for Dad & An Unexpected Truce
We had barely taken our seats when Dad pressed a hand to his chest, his face tightening in pain.
“Dad,” I cried, as Zachary called for help.
A doctor attending the service checked him and said it was likely stress—not another major episode. We moved Dad to a private room.
Stephanie followed, her voice trembling. “Is he okay? Should we call an ambulance?”
“The doctor says he’s stable,” I answered, surprised by the sincerity in her worry.
We sat in uneasy silence, bound by concern for our father. When he insisted on proceeding, we returned to the chapel.
The service was both beautiful and aching. I spoke about Mom’s kindness and strength.
When Stephanie stood to speak, she faltered after a few sentences, overcome by tears. I walked to her side without thinking and placed a hand between her shoulders.
“It’s okay. Take your time.”
She finished with stories from our childhood that made the room smile through tears.
At the cemetery, soft rain fell. Nathan hovered apart, checking his watch. Stephanie stayed close to Dad, her earlier bravado gone.
Back at my parents’ home, guests shared casseroles and memories. Nathan drank more than he should, clearly uneasy as others pulled Zachary into lively conversation.
I overheard mentions of Nathan’s company struggling and wondered if Stephanie’s earlier boasting had been a mask.
As the crowd thinned, I caught Stephanie watching me, her expression softer and unreadable.
Summary: Grief loosens, ever so slightly, old knots.
