Receiving help was new.
Marcus understood.
He gave him space.
By the end of the first week, the two of them were discussing the house.
The floors David had installed.
The windows he had reframed.
The walls he had replastered.
Marcus had done renovation work before becoming a caregiver, so he asked real questions.
David came alive talking about it.
On Monday night, I slept seven hours.
Seven.
When I woke up, I lay there for several minutes because I had forgotten what a rested body felt like.
Then I made coffee.
I sat at the kitchen table.
I read the newspaper.
At nine, Karen called.
“How did you sleep?”
“Seven hours.”
She went quiet.
“Mom.”
“I know.”
“Dad can be okay and you can be okay too.”
I smiled.
“Your father wrote that.”
“Not exactly.”
“But that’s what he meant.”
Karen laughed.
“He’s smarter than he looks.”
“Do not tell him you said that.”
“I’m telling him immediately.”
A few days later, Karen came over while Marcus was there.
She sat with David and watched an old movie.
I went into the kitchen.
I picked up a novel I had barely touched in four months.
And I read for two uninterrupted hours.
That night, we ate dinner together.
David told old stories about the house.
Karen had heard them all before. She listened as though she were hearing the stories for the first time.
Afterward, I went back to the bedroom and opened the nightstand drawer.
The watch was still there.
So was the letter.
I pulled it out and read it again.
This time, I wasn’t sitting on the floor.
You were the medium-density weatherstripping. The right fit. I knew from the hardware store.
I smiled.
Maybe I had known too.
Not because of the weatherstripping itself.
But because of how seriously David had considered my question.
When I said my door opened onto a shared hallway, he didn’t dismiss the detail.
He thought about it.
He wanted the answer to fit the actual problem.
That was David.
He had spent our entire marriage doing exactly that.
Looking carefully at what was truly needed.
Then quietly finding the right solution.
Years later, when illness arrived, he had done it again.
Only this time, the problem he had been preparing to solve was me.
Karen stopped by before leaving that evening.
“I’ll come Thursday.”
