My husband became an organ donor as his final wish — after he d*ed, his doctor stopped me and said, “There’s something he made me promise to give you only after he was gone.”

“Due in four weeks.”

“And you’re still doing this.”

“I’m trying to figure out what doing this even means,” I said.

“I don’t have a plan.

I just have a letter.”

She let out a breath that was almost a laugh.

“Okay,” she said.

“Come on Saturday.

I’ll make coffee.

Daniel will probably show you every toy he owns within the first ten minutes, so prepare yourself.”

I felt something shift in my chest.

Not relief exactly.

Something quieter than that.

“Saturday,” I said.

“Thank you, Diane.”

After I hung up, I sat for a long time without moving.

Then Ruth knocked on the front door.

I could see her through the glass panel — her coat, her grey hair, the way she was holding herself very still the way people do when they’re not sure of their welcome.