My 8-year-old nephew stayed beside his mother’s casket throughout the entire wake, refusing to move as he kept whispering, “Please don’t close it yet… Mom told me to wait until I heard the sound.

There was something else bothering me: Rachel’s dress.

She had been placed in a fitted navy-blue dress I had never seen before. Rachel preferred loose linen pants, white sneakers, and oversized bags filled with Leo’s belongings, yet Marcus insisted the dress had been her favorite.

I did not believe him.

Around eleven that evening, Leo carefully tucked a strand of Rachel’s hair behind her ear. Then he turned toward me.