I’ve taken to checking the obituaries for the previous week. Online journals and local sites. Usually on Thursday or Friday mornings after my most wearied evenings. Fruitlessly of course, as she was a fastidious health nut, but there is always the possibility that somehow, some way, she is dead. And though I would feel something like guilt immediately after the information settles in, it would provide that ridiculous sense of closure that all people seem to want, myself whole-heartedly included. The relief would be immense.

But then, as with all paths in this life, I would be down another purpose, and left to wonder what to do with myself. How does one move on from waiting for someone to die?