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.”

“He made some bad decisions,” I said.

“Yes.” She kept washing.

“He did.

But not that one.”

I didn’t answer.

But I held Josephine a little closer, and I didn’t argue.

—

I called Diane on a Thursday afternoon in January.

“How’s the recovery?” I asked.

“Good.

Back at work full-time now.

Daniel started a new term and he’s obsessed with dinosaurs, so that’s the current situation.”

“Josephine is obsessed with the ceiling fan.”

Diane laughed.

“They’re very similar at that age.”

“I was thinking,” I said.

“In the spring, when things are a bit easier — would you want to bring Daniel over?

Just for an afternoon.

Nothing formal.

He could meet Josephine.

They could ignore each other the way babies and five-year-olds do.”

A pause.

“Yes,” Diane said.

“I think I’d like that.”