Raise a child alone.
They were the couple you caught making out in the kitchen when one went inside to grab snacks to go with the wine. The two you bust locking eyes across the room hundreds of times each night, holding them there, looking away, and then returning to their respective conversation.
They lived together with a grace for which I'll never quite have words; sharing however they could, never taking a moment, an instant for granted. I'd see pictures of them together, get the chills. Never, I'd tell my friends, has a man looked at me like that.
And yet because of them, I secretly believed we all should continue hunting for that kind of love until old age if need be.
Their light. Their love. Their fun. Their husband. Their daddy.
And now we all stand around wondering what to do now that he's died.