Marcus passed away peacefully not very long after that afternoon, in our home, surrounded by warmth and by the people who loved him, in a house that was full, right up to the end, of laughter and of memory and of an abundance of small sweet ordinary things.

I will not write about the leaving itself.

It belongs to us.

I will say only that it was gentle, and that he was not alone, and that he was not afraid, and that after six months of hiding in the dark, he went out into whatever comes after held, and seen, and wholly loved.

That was the one thing I had promised him in that garden, and it was the one thing I made certain of.

He did not carry it alone.