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Hearing the voice of my dead wife in the silence of the epidemic

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While in Colombia, Muriel earned a high school diploma and began applying to college to graduate. He continues to be a psychologist, և his school years have been a ritual for more than a decade. On my way home from work, I saw him waiting at the front door of our 850-square-foot Levitt home on Long Island. Going to the car, he would say: “Kin is watching TV, he needs a shower. Leda is in a play pen; and Shanna is in the high chair, where I think she just blew. There is a chicken pie for you on the grill. Give me the car keys; I am late!”

In four years, three children, a house with the smell of a diaper, burned down even the smallest dispute. But in our early 20s, we swore we would never sleep in a quiet bedroom again.

Eventually, we moved to a larger house in Great Neck, a suburban town, where Muriel began his internship. His screened lobby overlooked the garden էր was the only corner of the noisy house that was perfect for customers, which Muriel quickly began to see. When our children made even the slightest hint, they were jealous of the attention paid to the customers, he took out his date book and said: “I’m meeting you. How is 5 o’clock tonight? ”

This week I asked Kim, our youngest child, if she remembers those speeches. “Oh,” he said, “I think about them all the time.” It may have been just an hour, 50 minutes, but I had my mom for me. He made the lobby a safe place to discuss anything, even things that children do not usually say to their mothers. “All my friends were jealous.”

I did not need a meeting to talk to Muriel. Even in the evenings, when we had dinner with friends, we would hurry to the restaurant an hour early to sit alone in the bar and talk over a glass of wine. But now I was sleeping in a quiet bedroom.

A Buddhist friend, aware of my loneliness, urged me to talk to Muriel. “You’ve been together for about 70 years,” he told me. “She is gone! He is in your essence, in your consciousness. Talk to him. Ask for his help. ” I was going to give up his advice, but I was in so much pain that I would try anything.

Every morning և every evening the photo of the nearest wall of the thermostat is adjusted by Muriel. He seemed so full of life that I would not be surprised if I woke up one morning to find a glass հատ the frame was empty. I decided to talk to that picture. I began to hear her voice, as I heard her every night before going to bed, as she rested her head on my chest as we talked about the love of the day.

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