There had been times at the post office or gas station, months after Jeff’s death, when someone would come up to me and say, “I’m so sorry to hear of your loss,” and I’d think, Oh yeah. The money. Then I’d have to remind myself, No, she means Jeff. Jeff is dead. I’d feel an extremely intricate crisscross of emotions. Charismatic, sensitive, mean Jeff, who knew I wasn’t going anywhere, because you couldn’t leave your marriage with a baby without the kind of
Who knew how universal this feeling was
