He cried at the funeral, but after that, he rarely talked about David.
If someone mentioned his dad, Caleb would lower his eyes or change the subject.
Over time, he
stopped inviting friends over.
Then he stopped going to their houses.
Some nights, he carried his dinner upstairs and ate alone.
His teachers called me twice because he had become quiet in class.
Caleb had always been the kid who raised his hand even when he wasn’t completely sure of the answer.
Now, according to his teacher, he could go an entire day without speaking unless someone called on him.
I tried everything I knew.
“Do you want to talk about Dad?”
“No.”
“Are you angry?”
“No.”
“Are you sad?”
“I’m fine.”
“Caleb, you know you can tell me anything.”
“I know.”
Then he would disappear into his room.
“Fine” became the word he used the most.
A week before Father’s Day, his school announced that they were holding an assembly.
