It was like listening to one end of a phone conversation. “Yes. Okay. Good. Thank God you are. What?” She nodded. “I will.” She closed her eyes, still smiling. I left the room to shut the front door, where there was already a fantail of snow almost an inch deep. When I came back, my wife was dead. You may scoff at the idea that our son came to escort her out of this life, and you are welcome to. I, on the other hand, once heard my little boy’s voice coming from his closet while he was dying a dozen miles away. I never told anyone about that, not even Donna.
