The Letting-Go

The young man shivered violently as he came up for air. The stream was cold, with a slow, but not sluggish, current. Orange winter sunlight reflected over the clear water that foamed delicately around boulders. The air was still. Birds sang busily. The young man and his uncles, who were standing on the bank, had come a long way for this moment. He opened the brass jar, looked inside and then, shook it empty. They saw the grey ashes form a coating then collapse; the large, dark chunks of bone sink; the physical being they had held dissolve.

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