One of the ways Mark is remarkable is that he allows me to grieve over Bill, still, after all these years – he even looks for signs that Bill might be around, still, somehow, somewhere. The day we visited the White Horse, we sat outside (because, of course, this is the year of the pandemic). Not long after our beers arrived, so did a redbird. I’d never seen a redbird in NYC. Just sparrows and pigeons. Mark said, “Yep, Bill’s here.”