We could share a small memory without asking the child whether he missed Simon enough or describing the visit as keeping my husband alive.

He was allowed to remember and then think about something else.

I was learning to do that as well.

One weekend, I made pancakes.

I did not arrange it as a tribute or tell the children they were eating something Simon had loved.

Sadie wanted hers in a shape that the batter refused to make.

Leo watched with great seriousness while I attempted it again.

“Looks like a dog,” he said.