I help Casey tenderly lower Grace into the grave. He said his goodbyes last night. Others have come by this morning or do so now. It’s different for everyone. A word. A smile. A gesture. A silence.

I play my violin for her.

Perhaps we should have done this for everyone, but it seems to me we’ve only now found the space to breathe and consider. And the others are still here. We will remember them, like we will remember her.

* * *

I wait until everyone is gone. I sit next to the freshly filled grave and pull the medal I wore to town over my head. The silver shines a little brighter from contact with my skin, and it’s warm against my fingers. I weave the fragile chain between my fingers and then sling it over the single white stone Josie placed on the overturned earth.

“You taught me to trust in us,” I say. “You taught me to believe in the hopeless cases. Trust I’ll find a place to belong.”

I sit in silence, until the wind picks up around me and the scant leaves in the trees above me rustle and fall.

When this winter is over, we can plant new fruits and vegetables. We can plant seeds and our garden will flourish. Over time, the graves will be covered in flowers and green and all the stones we can find. It will be a part of us, like we will be a part of it. This place to grieve and dance. To doubt and love.

To heal.

I rock to my feet and stand there for another moment longer, letting the wind play with my hair and dry my tears.

Then I turn and walk to the garden, and from there—on.

Phone call between Emerson and their mother

EMERSON: Mom?

MRS. WARD: Em—

EMERSON: Emerson, Mom.

MRS. WARD: Emerson.

MRS. WARD: How—how are you?

EMERSON: Alive.

EMERSON: How are you and Dad?

MRS. WARD: We’re…we’re alive too. He got sick, but he made it through, by the grace of God.

EMERSON: Of course he did.

MRS. WARD: I’m glad you called. Your father and I had a lot of time to talk after you left. We regret a lot of things we said and did that day.

EMERSON: I didn’t leave, Mom. You kicked me out.

MRS. WARD: Yes. Yes, of course.

EMERSON: And then you did it again when I got arrested.

MRS. WARD: …

MRS. WARD: What’s your point, Emerson?

EMERSON: I really like hearing you use my name. Absurd, isn’t it? I know you don’t care, but it still matters to me. That’s all I ever wanted. For you to see me as I am. That’s all I ever asked.

MRS. WARD: I—

EMERSON: My point is, I want you to know you don’t have to worry about me, if you did at all.

MRS. WARD: I’m glad—

EMERSON: I don’t forgive you.

EMERSON: Maybe I’ll practice forgiveness somewhere in the future, like Dad always wanted me to. Maybe I won’t. It doesn’t concern you.