It isn't the eyes that remind him of his son, or the shock of thick hair, or the voice. No his son has dark eyes and is as hairless as he is, and doesn't speak. It's Diarmuid's mind that is so familiar, his kindness and cleverness and his great capacity for emotion. And, yes, his trusting nature. They may be the simpler thoughts of a human, but they are very similar in content.

He starts walking toward town, slowly, so that Diarmuid can keep up with him, still holding the boy's hand. Even this seems familiar and somehow right.

"I have read that it is traditional to light a candle and say a few words for those who are gone, to let others know that those who are gone are not forgotten."