Instead of simply scattering the ashes from the shoreline, Bob and Marilyn had chartered Kit’s beloved ferry for a full hour. As the six of us walked toward the docking station, Marilyn took us past the town’s new swing sets that the two of them had donated in Kit’s name. They asked me if I would sprinkle some of his ashes near the swings and along the riverbank. I took a deep breath. I’d been avoiding making eye contact with the ashes. Missi had handled the Tupperware transfer for me last night at my apartment. I cracked open the container and lightly dusted the ground with . . . pieces of
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