The man from the funeral home shook hands, his manner breezy but not disrespectful. At first I was content to let him lead -- he knew where we were going, he knew what to do. But he took the box of ashes in his car when we drove to the site, and by the time we got there I knew I had to ask if I could carry it to the grave. It was about the size and shape of a trophy base, and heavier than it looked. I carried it against my side, where I carried my kids when I picked them up, where my father carried me.
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