We all are stiff in life and stiff after death. The rigour mortis that sets in after our soul leaves the rotting flesh and wound behind is not much different than the stubbornness shown by our living selves while making through life.
The soul less effigies that we see wandering around have found comfort in their well formed notions about life, death and all in between.
She never challenged his being so, as she herself had seen parts of her die, with each break of trust, each affair gone bad, each healed wound that left behind a scar as a souvenir. Being partly dead within was something she accepted in him as she was too. Their only hope was uniting the parts of them that were still alive to create a fresh, whole, pure, innocent life which they could try to nurture, nourish and be proud of. A baby that wouldn't turn out to be as undead as them.
