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.”

She said it without bitterness, which I found harder to absorb than bitterness would have been.

“I was angry for a long time,” she said.

“I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t.

But Daniel is the best thing in my life, and I can’t be angry about something that gave me him.”

“That’s very generous.”

“It’s practical,” she said.

“Anger is expensive when you’re doing it alone.”

I thought about that.

“What do you need?” I asked.

“Right now.

Practically.”

She wrapped both hands around her mug.

“I’m back at work in six weeks.

My neighbor has been covering the school pickups, but she can’t do it indefinitely.

And Daniel’s been asking questions I don’t know how to answer yet.

About his dad.

About why he doesn’t have one like his friends do.”