Charon’s boat had a small leak, not like a sieve, and the administration was light on putty so someone who knew better volunteered to plug it with his thumb. His kin had done right by him and put silver coins over his eyes before the lamentation and tears began. And so had the tithe already redeemed and had no practical need to be useful and keep on the boat so it could traverse its way via Lethe to the end state and then he’d come back with Charon, who had no words to share or lighten the interminable task at hand.

Scattered ashes don’t often enough sink and so the currents and tides are both music and dancers, making a more robust meaning to scattering and returning.