“For as much as I hate the cemetery, I’ve been grateful it’s here, too. I miss my wife. It’s easier to miss her at a cemetery, where she’s never been anything but dead, than to miss her in all the places where she was alive.”

“This is the last time I would ever visit the cemetery or my wife's grave, but I didn't want to expend too much effort in trying to remember it. As I said, this is the place where she's never been anything but dead. There's not much value in remembering that.”

“I miss you.…” He stroked the indentation of the gown where her waist would have been—should have been. “I miss you so much.”

“How do I begin to explain? It’s because. Because I feel responsible. Because she’s a little girl with big green eyes that blink too often when she gets excited. Because she has this big dream about Florida, where she thinks she’ll find her mother, like the whole state is Disney World, nothing but palm trees and happiness. Because she misses her mother with a longing as big as the state. Because I’ve been blessed to have so much love in my life.”

“But the past coupleof days I’ve missed you so much it’s felt like missing youis all I am.”

“It’s fine, Mom, really.” She’s tucking me into my bed, asking me how my back feels for the one hundredth time in the ten minutes that I’ve been home. She smiles and strokes my hair. That’s what I’m going to miss the most about her. The way she strokes my hair and looks at me with so much love in her eyes.”