There were times, toward the end of his life, when I was very angry with Mike. Why? I couldn’t tell you now.

Maybe because he wouldn’t accept that he was dying? He thought he could miraculously recover from Stage 4 esophageal cancer. Late last fall we were at the hospital every other day for IV fluids. I was frustrated. Exhausted. And angry. 

I’ve forgiven him. And myself. I couldn’t know how he felt. My faith told me all would be well. His told him he would be healed.

And, in every way except the one he wanted, he has been.