"I've always struggled with why we work so hard to hold on to memories," I said. "But I think they're important. Really important."
"How important?" she asked.
I shook my head slowly. "I haven't a clue. I just believe it. Don't ask me how it plays out right now because I can't find words for what I feel." We got out of the Suburban.
"Memories are part of the meaning of life," I said. "Of what makes our existence significant. I think maybe this is why it's important to make memories and to be faithful to them."
I put on my coat as we walked over to the open grave. The same two guys stood near the same backhoe in the distance, dressed this day in work shirts. Jasmine and I got to the graveside as the preacher began. He took in Jasmine and me in a single glance and offered us a smile.
"I want to begin first with a saying from Helen Keller," the old preacher said I was relieved to see he had been to a much better dermatologist and was no longer covered with precancerous lesions.
"Ms. Thompson"-he nodded toward Jasmine-"was kind enough to bring this quote to my attention." He blinked his watery eyes at an index card that trembled in his hands.
"The quote, which I believe I will use every chance I get, goes like this: 'What once we enjoyed and deeply loved, we can never lose, for all that we love deeply becomes a part of us."'
I said, "Amen," and did not fight my tears.