GLEN ELLYN, Ill. — When her husband, Bill, died six years ago this month, Michele Zawadzki squared her shoulders to the grief.

They had been together for 47 years — since high school, when they were prom dates — so she knew that life without him would be trying. Not just holidays, but even mundane matters like taking care of the car. When a pipe broke in her toilet, spraying water all over, Ms. Zawadzki, 68 , didn’t know what valve to turn off or whom to call. Mail for him kept coming.

What she didn’t expect, though, was how difficult it would be to turn on her stove. Or how hard it would be to go to a restaurant with their friends and be the only one driving home by herself at the end of the night. Or how it would feel to walk supermarket aisles, past the foods he loved.

In the checkout line, she’d watch the clerk scan produce she knew would rot, and bread she knew would go stale; she was still shopping for two, but eating for one. When her freezer filled with excess food, she started throwing out meals — throwing out his portion, really, because he wasn’t there to eat it.