When I planted the magnolia tree in July, I decided I’d bury most of Grace’s ashes beneath it on the Day of the Dead. Well, that was just a week ago, and when the day arrived I found it harder to actually do than I had anticipated. First I put it off for an hour or so despite the weather being clear; then I moved the container to the table and procrastinated a little more, until I realized the trouble was that even though it was Grace’s soul that I loved rather than her mortal form, deep down I had trouble letting go of that tangible reminder of her existence. So I decided to compromise by putting aside a small amount of the ash in a container I could seal up and keep close by, and burying the rest. It took me a while to find a container of the right size that I felt would not be disrespectful to her memory, and that I thought she would have liked or found amusing. And while her sense of humor wasn’t quite as macabre as mine can be, I know she would’ve approved of my choice, which also has the advantage of telegraphing the contents to anyone who might find it on my nightstand after I, too, pass into the Unknown.