MY BROTHER WORE A BRIGHT RED SUIT TO DAD’S FUNERAL AND I WAS FURIOUS

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whole adulthood secretly saving so that one day the answer could finally be yes.

“I was wrong to stop you,” the letter said. “I’ve known it for thirty years. I was too proud to admit it while I could still look you in the eye, so I did the only thing my stubborn heart would let me do — I saved, every month, for the dream I’d forbidden, and I prayed I’d leave you brave enough to finally chase it. Make the bright thing, Eric. Paint the loud paintings. Wear the red suit every day if you want to. Your father was a coward about color his whole life. Don’t be like me. Be like you. You were always the best of us. I was just too afraid to say so.”

My brother sat down on the grass beside our father’s fresh grave and cried like I’d never seen him cry,

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