I VOUCH FOR YOU…
One week before her death she granted me unimaginable grace. She was sitting on the sofa that day, leaning back on the pillow. I was sitting nearby on a small bench, exactly as I usually did when we were discussing our own affairs. This conversation, however, was special. It didn’t jump from topic to topic as had become the norm over the last years we shared. She had called for me that day. The topic held us in its grip, swallowing all our energy: tormented us and sapped our strength. We needed to reach an agreement about a certain matter, and we two were the only ones who could. Afterwards, we were sitting, smiling fondly at each other, when she suddenly suggested I ask her anything. She said she would reply to anything, anything I asked. She knew what she was doing. She
