Earlier I wanted to fill the silence, but now it seems inappropriate to do so; I wait quietly, taking my cues from the woman next to me. I watch the leaves scattering in the wind; I note the headstones around us that seem well cared for and the ones that don’t. I remember what Juniper said about feeling sad for people who are forgotten after they die, and I promise myself that when I someday lose the people I love, I’ll bring flowers to their graves.
