Although you and I know they weren’t and aren’t your real ashes. There was nothing to gather. No body to bury. But I visited the site. With your parents. Grief stricken, all of us. We scooped up earth from where we’d lost you, and we let our hands sift it into jars—one for them, one for me. I’d like to think that even a bit of you was there. It’s what I told myself at each place I traveled.
Wow!!!!! This is one sad paragraph
