Chapter 14 - THE UNIFORM
A year after the memorial, I returned to St. Andrew’s.
Not for a funeral.
Walter Briggs was receiving recognition from a veterans’ organization.
Daniel came.
Helen did not.
I wore my dress uniform.
For several minutes, I stood alone in the same aisle where my mother had shoved me.
I remembered everything.
Her hand gripping the fabric.
The congregation staring.
Walter walking forward.
The letter.
My father’s words.
You obeyed my last order.
Daniel stopped beside me.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
I looked down at the uniform.
For almost a year after Dad died, every ribbon felt like evidence against me.
Proof that I had chosen something over him.
Now I finally understood.
My father had never asked me to choose.
My mother had.
Duty or love.
Career or family.
Stay or abandon.
Those were her categories.
Not his.
Dad had taught me something simpler.
Sometimes love means coming home.
Sometimes it means staying where the person you love asked you to stand.
Walter waved from the front pew.
I smiled.
Then Daniel nudged me.
“What?”
“You know Dad would be impossible today.”
I laughed.
“He’d tell everyone I outranked him.”
“He’d tell everyone twice.”
We sat down.
The service began.
And for the first time since my father died, I wore the uniform without shame.
Because I finally knew the truth.
May you like
I had not missed his last order.
I had obeyed it.
