My ten-year-old son stopped speaking to his best friend after the boy secretly read a letter from his dead father. My husband, Dan, died fourteen months ago. He was only 38 when he suffered a fatal heart problem while sitting in the passenger seat of a pickup truck in a Tractor Supply parking lot. A week after his funeral, I found eleven envelopes hidden inside his toolbox. Each one was labeled for a different moment in our son Theo's life. Theo, 10. Theo, 11. Theo, 16. Theo, graduation. Theo, first heartbreak. Dan had written them after his own father died. He wanted Theo to have his words as he grew up, even if he wasn't there to say them himself. I put the letters in my dresser drawer because I wasn't ready to read them. Theo's best friend, Marcus, used to spend almost every day at our house. He was a loud, funny kid who ate three bowls of cereal at a time and called me "Miss Jo." After Dan died, Marcus was one of the few people who could still make my son laugh. But in September, Theo suddenly stopped inviting him over. At first, I thought they'd had a normal argument. Then, one Saturday, I saw Marcus standing on our porch with a video game controller in his hand. Theo saw him through the hallway window, turned around, and walked away. From inside, I heard him say, "Not today. Maybe not ever." I couldn't understand it. My son was the kind of child who once cried because someone had stepped on a snail…..