We descend into the deep chill of the canyon, our differences set aside. We push his mother’s wheelchair onto the bridge and help her stand, our arms around her gently for support. We silently hand her the urn.
Suddenly, his ash spirals up on the icy currents, coating us all.
I laugh, shattering the stillness.
Shock transforms to mirth, infecting us all. Instantly united, we giggle as we pat him from each other’s clothes and hair, our tears clearing tracks down our faces.
Ghosts of his making, we gather together, and toss the rest of him over the rail.