So did I.

Its branches moved slowly above the water.

I found a place near the trunk and sat with the urn in my lap.

For several minutes, I could not lift the lid.

“I hate you for doing this first,” I whispered.

The absurdity made me laugh through tears.

Then I talked about the faucet, our neighbor’s new dog, and the mail still arriving in his name.

“You always were selfish,” I said softly, imagining his offended expression and the joke that would follow it.