Egan: What love endures — the widower as pilgrim, coming on 300 Sundays

Every Sunday, Mike Patafie visits his wife, Jocelyn, in her quiet, polished surroundings.
He takes the black Buick, parks it under the overhang near the door, and patters across the long corridors, looking for the moveable steps that will guide the quiet ascension.
And there she is, in the corner by the big window, third one up, cradled by yellow sunflowers and the gaze of Mary and Jesus. He bows his head near the black granite, without needing to read the words: Patafie, Jocelyn, Dec. 26, 1936,