I didn't go. On my way out the door to work the other day, my dad waited at the breakfast table as I assembled my cereal.
He folded his hands together. He didn't look me in the eye. I knew he had something on his mind.
"Son, just to let you know...I know you may not attend the memorial tonight, but I just want to let you know that the invitation is there."
I kept pouring the milk into the bowl.
"Well, thank you for the invite," I said.
He looked defeated. I did feel bad for him, briefly. Then I ate breakfast and left for work.