‘There are seasons of grief, Tess, just like there are in the garden . . . a frozen winter that it seems will never end; then a spring thaw, when hope returns, bringing with it the promise of summer. That’s when the memories return – the good ones, the ones you thought had died.’ She glances up at me, making sure I understand. ‘But there’s an autumn too. A letting go. A time when you start to forget again. I suppose without that ending there can be no new beginning. It’s nature’s way.’
