"I didn't know it would be like that."
Her father just kept driving.
"You didn't tell me what it would be like."
"I told you not to come," he father reassured.
"Yea I just didn't know."
Silence fell as they heard the cardboard box knock around in the trunk.
Tears began to flood over her words.
"She wasn't that sick...she had time."
He father's eyes consoled her from the rear view mirror.
"She was old, she would've wanted it this way."
That wasn't ever going to be enough for her.
"How can we be sure? We never asked her and she couldn't tell us."
They pulled up to the house. As she walked in the front door she saw the rusted shovel, glossed with mud, leaning impatiently. She turned around to see her father out of the car and opening the trunk.
He lifted the cardboard box and cradled it,adoringly, under his arm. As he closed the trunk his eyes searched and met hers.
"Go inside," he said. "She'll be by the tree in the back...whenever you're ready."