On March 18, he decided to accept the offer. On March 19, he was laid off.

The news landed in a late-afternoon email he received from corporate, thanking him for all that he had done for the company and signed, “Youfit Family.”

“Our first concern, in closing gyms, was protecting our team members’ and members’ health,” it read. “Now we are fighting to preserve our future.”

“What about your health insurance?” I asked him.

“Gone,” he said.

We were in the kitchen, preparing for yet another meal together, wrapped in the closeness that social distancing has brought upon us. The news drained the energy in the room, stunning us into silence. The sound of butter sizzling in the frying pan filled the air, reminding us of the quesadillas we had planned to make.

Clint gazed through me, focusing on the fridge behind me, or maybe the long, uncertain road ahead. I raised my hand to caress his face. He turned away. My hand hung midair; I could almost feel the coolness of the solid steel gate he had erected between us. I realized right then that I loved having him by my side.

My daughter eyed us from the safety of the breakfast-bar stool where her father used to sit until he died on Nov. 1, 2017, 30 days after a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. She and I are used to being alone, schooled on purposely staying away from others. That’s how we felt our way through our grief, steadied our feet and set off on the path we now follow.