The morning after we buried my father, my ex-husband’s new wife walked straight into his garden and told me to begin packing my belongings.

to carry wood.

After everyone left, I walked back into the garden.

The sun was sinking behind the oaks, turning the roses gold at the edges. I knelt where I had found the envelope and pressed my hand to the soil.

For three weeks, grief had made the world feel empty. I had thought my father was gone from every room, every hallway, every shaded corner of continue reading …