I didn’t say it out loud.
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.”
It wasn’t the right moment.
But I didn’t let go of the thought either.
Chapter 7: What Gets Left Behind
Josephine Ruth arrived three weeks later, at 4:47 in the morning, seven pounds and two ounces, with dark hair and a furious expression that made the midwife laugh.
I named her after my grandmother and Mark’s mother, in that order.
Ruth cried when I told her.
She was in the waiting room, and when the nurse brought her in she stood at the edge of the room with both hands pressed to her mouth and didn’t move for a long moment.
“Come meet her,” I said.
She came.
She held Josephine very carefully, like something she wasn’t sure she deserved.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, to the baby or to me or to both of us.
