pneumonia and I had slept in a chair beside his bed for four nights.
I remembered helping Sophie through a period of severe anxiety when she was sixteen, listening to her cry long after everyone else had gone to sleep.
I remembered the hours I had spent helping Michael recover after a serious accident, even though Richard had been away on business.
I remembered the thousands of small moments nobody had photographed or celebrated.
And my husband was laughing about them.
“I don’t want to spend the rest of my
