Helen died in her sleep in February. Frank ate frozen dinners for four months. Lost twenty pounds. Their daughter Beth left groceries on the counter and tried not to say anything, and then said everything, and none of it mattered because Frank couldn't boil water and didn't care to learn.

In June, looking for a Phillips head screwdriver to fix a loose cabinet hinge, he found the recipe box in the junk drawer.

Wooden. Craft-fair quality. Eight inches by five by two, with a brass clasp. Inside: dozens of index cards organized with tab dividers cut from cereal box cardboard, labeled in Helen's blue ink. Pot roast, chicken parm, beef stew, meatloaf, Sunday sauce, shrimp scampi, chicken soup.

Every card had notes in the margins. Not general cooking tips. Instructions written directly to Frank, anticipating his specific mistakes.