Since DH died, nearly four years ago, I have twice heard him say my name. Each time I have been wide awake and active, so not a dream. He was Welsh and the way he said my name had a particular intonation. Anyone among our family and friends would have recognised it immediately. It sounded as if he was searching for me. I’m not given to flights of fancy, but I was very disconcerted and saddened by it, not comforted at all.
A quote for those blessed with a spouse:
How will things change if our summers keep getting hotter


