I was groggy, just having woken up from a glorious nap when my son knockedon my bedroom door. "Dad, are you awake?"
"Yeah sure, I was taking a nap, come on in."
"How do I look?" he asked me.
With a bit of confusion I looked him over. Then after a second I realized why he was asking. "Oh that's right, the funeral is today." He responded by nodding his head. His friends grandfather had died a few days earlier.
I sat up on the bed and looked him over more carefully. He was wearing mostly black and before I could finish the inspection he lifted one foot a few inches off the floor and said: "Just these sneakers though" then he glanced at a pair of my dress shoesthat were laying in front of my closet.
Addendum to this story added a couple of years after what was written above.
My sister called me. "Everything is just about taken care of, we have picked out some nice clothes and all the arrangements are made but he doesn't have a nice pair of shoes. Do you have something that would fit him?"
I paused as the sledgehammer hit me directly in the face. "Yes, I have a pair that will fit him. They are just a little bit big but not so big that they fall off." I couldn't see them in the casket but I knew they were there.