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The old woman had drawn down the shade in her room — hoping, I imagined, to stop the midday Miami sun from penetrating her grief. But the sun still hit the window full force and illuminated the shade like a Chinese lantern.
She sat silently in a wheelchair, her 93-year-old silhouette stooped in the bathing light. I entered, held her hand for a moment and introduced myself. “Sit down, doctor,” she said politely.
I asked her why she had come to the nursing home, and she described the recent passing of her husband after 73 years of marriage. I was overwhelmed by the thought of her loss, and wanted to offer some words of comfort. I leaned in close and spoke.
“I’m so sorry,” I told her. “What has it been like for you losing your husband after so many years of marriage?”She paused for a moment and then replied: “Heaven.”
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