The day of my mom’s memorial service came too soon. Jeff and I had made the trek to my house and found picture albums my grandma wanted for the service. Pamela, Jeff, and I had spent the day before putting them together on several large foam boards.
Grandma had always been crafty, so she had run to a scrapbooking store and purchased ribbons, fake flowers, and stickers to decorate the place. She was determined to create a space worthy of my mom. I had to admit, I was pretty impressed.
The weight of our mutual confessions allowed Jeff and I to finally put away the weirdness between us—at least for a while—and get back to being best friends. Things were bound to change in some way, we both knew that. But not yet.
While we were at my house, I found the one blazer I owned and a pair of nice
