I was a dandelion seed freed from its stem. Fern picked up my mood and skipped around my feet as I hummed at the sink. The day passed lightly with no expectation of Ira to weigh it down or Jay to distract me, and the tarlings responded well to my buoyancy.

After feeding Fern and her brood, I walked to Cutler’s Forge with barely a hitch in my step. Brook was cleaning mixing bowls when I breezed into the kitchen.

“Can we bury Ira’s ashes tomorrow afternoon? I’ll need to ...