Write his or her name in the snow, get a comfortable chair and watch how it melts: the letters expanding, becoming illegible and finally disappearing into the earth.
Spend time—the only form of currency the dead still honor.
Find the perfect slab of polished granite and release it into its native habitat.
Every year on the anniversary of your loss, take out a small ad in your local paper. Let it remain blank—an oasis of propriety among the ads for legal services and riding mowers.
Visit caves that have lost all their bats to white-nose syndrome. Stand at the entrance and listen.
Visit mountaintop-removal sites in the Appalachians that have been terraformed to look like Wyoming.
Wear a cowboy hat and squint.
Become addicted to a tear-flavored brand of chewing tobacco.
Bleed yourself regularly with leeches to remove the black bile.
Follow a river from its mouth to its source: a spring small enough to empty with one long sip.
Plant a stump.