My wife has been dead ten years, undone by her own body, the cancer. Prolonged drop, sudden stop. Excruciating. I never can let her go. Lately, it’s become easier, not easy, to live. The years pass and people expect me to move on. We didn’t have children and we weren’t married up to a defining decade—their words. Our two years of circling, faux-denying and acceptance pre-marriage, six-year-short marriage of deep impressions, all that she was, all that we were together, treasured data, I carry on me, with me—an unforgiving loss on an unforgiving body.