Twenty-One
FRIDAY MORNING I GET to the Church early, wanting to be there in time to speak briefly with the Beckets and offer them some words of comfort and support. When I enter the church, the lights are on. In the center of the aisle, right at the base of the steps leading up to the altar, is Ashley’s casket. I swallow a lump of emotion as I remember Joan’s casket sitting in the same place so many years ago. Then, I was the mourner.
I walk up the steps, bow to the altar, and go into the Sacristy. Deacon Roderick is already there with Dominic.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Dominic?” I say to the young man.
“I’ve served at funerals before, Father,” he says quietly. “I know how they go.”
“But you and I know that this one’s different. Ashley was close to your own age.”
He nods and
