My Son Walked Across the Graduation Stage Wearing a Bright Red Dress While Hundreds of People Laughed. I Was the Only Person in the Auditorium Who Knew Why.

On the drive home Caleb talked about oil changes and then, ten miles later, about the hospice corridor.

He said he had hated Julian a little that last night, for being able to sit on the bed when he could not.

He said the hate had nowhere to go except into silence, and silence had lasted too long.

“I know,” I said.

“I am trying,” he said.

Trying is not a standing ovation.