He had let the ash mix with the gravel. That had been her fervent wish. She wanted to be always in the garden. Along with ash, some heavy metal and some small splinters of bones too had been part of the mix..
Today, a fairly large walnut tree stands in that spot. It does not bear much fruit - possibly none at all. No one expected the walnut tree to even flower in that location. He had planted that on a whim..
He had heard that Kashmiris usually plant a walnut tree - every time a daughter is born at their homes - and then harvest it when she is about to marry. (Actually chop it dead for its wood). A sort of levy for the expenses of her marriage.
Thats the original (but maybe apocryphal) tale that made him plant a walnut tree at that spot. Its years now, and he often wonders - will there be a time and occasion to ever chop this one.
Maybe she will live forever. She did not ever want to be married. She did not want to ever be chained.
Irony, she is now a tree. In my garden.
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