I married a 70-year-old hospice patient to fulfill her last wish — after the funeral, her lawyer stepped aside with me and whispered, “I need you to see something.

Before you were assigned to her.

She had specifically requested a volunteer for Tuesday and Thursday afternoons.

The coordinator thought it was just about scheduling.” Patricia smiled.

“I always wondered.”

“She planned everything,” I said.

“She was the most organized person I’ve ever met.” Patricia paused.

“She was also the loneliest.

For a long time.” She looked at me.

“Until you started coming.”

I turned the ring over in my hand.

“I keep thinking about all the things I didn’t know,” I said.

“All the conversations we had where she knew and I didn’t.

I keep wondering what she was feeling.”

“I can tell you what she told me,” Patricia said.

“About a month before she passed, she had a bad night.

I sat with her for a while.

She said — ” Patricia paused, remembering.

“She said, *I found her.

After everything, I found her.

And she’s good.

She’s genuinely good.

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