I’ve never been the jealous type. So I shocked myself the other day when I shrieked at the discovery that my late husband is now residing just inches away from another woman. The nearest other marker at this miles-long cemetery is yards away.

Somehow last spring, in the throes of fresh grief, I had missed this inevitable development on the cemetery map, where each lot is the size of half a Chiclet. Maybe I left my reading glasses at home. Maybe they wouldn’t have helped.