“And I saw him. I went into our room, and he was there. He told me we’d be all right, that he’d loved me every minute of every day since we met.” “You never told me that.” “No, I never did. I thought it was grief. But it wasn’t, not only. Sometimes I’d feel his hand on my cheek as I fell asleep. I still do now and then. Or hear his voice inside my head when I’m struggling with a decision or problem. ‘Trust your gut, babe, then check in with your heart.’”
