I have been married for 15 months and there have been no funerals. There is a moment in every day when I am grateful for this, usually with my arm over his chest, feeling sleep pull him down in uneven jerks. Going 40 years without feeling love will lie on your bones like that.

I often find myself looking into the face of someone who has made the same mistakes as me, but has been made to pay for every single one. I hope they can feel me, behind my work-appropriate cardigan, my neat fingernails, my suburban lady car. I have built bridges over my steep ravines, but still those dark and slippery banks remain.