I told her I understood.

I did understand that she had a life, work, responsibilities I knew only partly.

What I did not understand was how much of that life Patrick had known without telling me.

Another month passed before I felt able to go to the willow.

I chose an early morning, when the shore would be quiet.

I wore shoes suitable for the damp grass and took the urn in a bag that protected it from knocks.

The tree looked older than it had in my memory.