The odds are that Peter and I will not die at the same time. Statistically, I should outlive him because I am eight years younger than he is. But life is not statistics.
Peter doesn't want to outlive me because he thinks I take care of him. A number of years ago, our son Seth offered to take Peter as a roommate should I die first, but I think that offer may have expired.
Which brings me to this morning. Normally, Peter folds his laundered socks and puts them away. But today, I did it. And in his sock drawer, I found six "orphans". Turns out they all matched and he actually has three more perfectly good pairs of socks. My first thought was that one thing I wouldn't miss about Peter, should I outlive him, would be how badly he takes care of his clothes.
I decided to make a mental list of "at least I won't have to live with THAT anymore" things that might offer me some consolation in an un-hoped-for widowhood.
I couldn't think of anything else.