We moved to the next body and he did the same. It was a boy, much younger, dark hair. I shook my head and he covered the body again. Body by body we moved. Some he passed over, and I realized why—the body under the tarp was too small to possibly be my brother. Some of them couldn’t have been much more than babies.

He lifted up the tarp covering the last body in the row. It was a girl. She had short hair. Her eyes were closed and she looked so little, so peaceful, as if her mother had just finished reading her a bedtime story, kissed her on cheek, and she’d gone to sleep. Seth pulled the tarp back over her and the illusion was broken.

“Do you want to take a break?” he asked.

“Maybe just a minute.”

He led me over to a small bench and I sat down.

“You should take a drink. I’ll get you some water.”

“No, I have some.” I took off my backpack and pulled out a bottle. I was thirsty, but even more I wanted to take away the bad taste in my mouth. There was such a strong odor in the air…heavy and almost sickeningly sweet.

“I was just wondering…the smell…”

“That’s mainly the disinfectant that they’ve been spraying on the bodies, but it’s mixed with the incense from the temple. The monks are working hard to ease the path of the dead. Do you know much about Buddhism?”

I shook my head. “Not much. They believe in reincarnation, right?”

“That’s part of it. They believe that in the moments after death, before the soul enters another life form, it is alone, scared, in turmoil. They feel that this is particularly true when the death has been sudden or violent. The monks are feeling overwhelmed as they try to bring comfort to these souls.” He gestured with his hands. “So many souls.”

“And the incense and the chanting and drumming are ways to comfort the souls?” I asked.

“That, and prayer and meditation.”

We sat quietly for a moment until he asked, “Are you ready to continue?”

“I’m ready.”

He led me over to the middle row. Again he bent down by the first body at the head and I stood at the foot.

“I know this is hard,” Seth said. “Be brave, take your time, and if you need to stop we’ll stop right away. Ready?”

I nodded, and he pulled up the corner of the tarp. There was a shock of bright blond hair and I gasped before I saw the face—it wasn’t her.

“I thought for a second…” I explained. “She looks like my mother…I mean, the hair color.”

He lowered the tarp over her again. “She’s probably Swedish. So many Swedes,” Seth said.

“My mother’s family is from Sweden. I’m half Swedish.”

“You don’t look Swedish. The dark hair,” he said.

“I got my father’s hair. I always wished I had blond hair.”

“Blonds have more fun. Isn’t that what they say?”