Two years ago on Boxing Day i met her on the beach. It was a cold morning; the sky purple grey, the frosty air whipping up caps on the lumpy sea.
She spoke to me as if she knew me.
“I tossed his ashes in the Irish sea… that was years ago now”, she said as she bent down to dip a hand in the water lapping at her boots. “We can still touch whenever we like.”
The old woman took my outstretched hand and rose stiffly back to her feet.
I said nothing.
There was nothing to say.
