Brendan and Joe looked at each other. It surprised Joe to realize that they did understand, that they were, in fact, brothers.
"Mother, you said it was hot."
"Almost like summer, Brendan."
"The sun must have felt good—one last day," Joe said sadly.
"He couldn't have taken his clothes off after the heart attack," Ann said. "Do you think he felt it coming?"
"We'll never know, Mother."
"If he felt it coming, why wouldn't he have come home?"
"I'm sure he would have tried," Joe said. She was struggling with being excluded, or not being included, in a final intimacy. "It's such a beautiful spot," Joe said, "maybe he just wanted to lie there and look at the sky."
"Yes, I suppose," she said. She straightened on the couch and pushed the question to the back of her mind to deal with later.
"He was lucky to have you for so many years," Joe said. This was easier for him to offer than for Brendan who had had every nuance and tension between his parents pressed on him since birth.