And do you know what the most touching moment was?
After we returned to America, David’s daughter, Sarah, called me one day.
Her voice was trembling.
“Mary, there’s something I want to tell you. For three years, every time I walked into my father’s house, I was afraid of what condition I might find him in.”
She paused.
“But yesterday, when I visited him, Dad was singing in the kitchen while making breakfast. I hadn’t seen him like that since Mom died.”I burst into tears.
Sarah added softly:
“Thank you for giving him the chance to love again.”
I replied:
“No, Sarah. We simply reminded each other that we’re still alive.”
Today, I’m seventy years old.
David is seventy-three.
We’re still together.
Sometimes we argue. Sometimes we’re afraid of the future. But every morning, we’re grateful to have another day by each other’s side.