I carried my brother’s suit through airport security

Dear Delyara, My brother died in Canada, and our mother wanted him buried in Ghana wearing the blue suit he bought for her seventieth birthday. I carried it in my hand luggage because I was afraid the airline would lose it. At security, an officer removed the jacket, searched the pockets, and asked why I was travelling with formal clothing. I said, “It belongs to my brother.” I could not say the rest. Inside the breast pocket, the officer found a restaurant receipt from the last dinner we shared. My brother had written a phone number on the back. I did not recognize it. For one ugly second, grief became suspicion. Was there someone else? Another life? A person who should know he had died? The officer handed everything back and told me to have a good trip. On the plane, I placed the suit in the overhead compartment and checked it whenever turbulence moved the door. My brother’s body was travelling below us in the hold. His empty suit was above my head. I kept thinking about that unknown number between the two. When we land, our mother will ask me to help dress him. I have put the receipt back in the pocket. I do not know whether I am preserving his secret or carrying home the final clue to a part of him none of us were invited to know.