Shall we speak of the dead?

Shall we speak of the dead?
He asked,
Before the removal;

Perhaps it is not too late to say,
I will join you then;

In speaking of the dead,
Who will begin?

The first I knew was when,
Walking together,
Through the small, dark opening
That led to knowledge,

She said,
"My father died in the summer"
Taut sinew stretched,
"Did it hurt?"
Then snapped.

She answered slowly,
One word without tears;

At this hour of remembering,
This hallowed even,
At his invitation,
I recall her father.