When somebody dies, the first thing you do is think about walking in their front door and seeing them look up from the magazine they are reading on the couch. You drop your keys on the counter and give them a quick hug. Then you think about how you can never, never do that ever again. Even if there is a God and you both somehow end up in heaven, you think about how it couldn’t possibly be as good as being able to see them in real life, with their worn in skin and marble eyes.
What you realize much later after someone dies is that the person will be gone forever, but the front door and the magazine and the keys are still there. Home & Garden will be what heals you. You’ll see it on the coffee table while everyone is clearing away plates and cups after the post-funeral brunch. For a few minutes, you’ll settle on the couch and flip through the pages. You’ll stroke the creases in the pages and fall into the advertisements for cabinet stains and luxury vacuum cleaners. An article about raised-bed gardens will catch your attention and a photograph of them will make your vision all blurry. Now every time you see Home & Garden, it’s like a squeeze on your hand.
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