I wish I had been there when she died, Sophie thought, as she changed from her good slacks and jacket into the sweatshirt and cotton pants that were her work clothes. It’s such a shame she was alone. When I go, I know my children will be around me to say good-bye. If they get any warning that I am dying, nothing on earth would keep them away . . . Dr. Farrell, what a lovely-looking girl she is. Hard to believe that she’s a doctor and very highly respected, according to what they wrote in the paper after that bus almost killed her. Ms. Morrow didn’t have a single family member at the funeral. The priest even mentioned that in his sermon. He spoke so nicely about Ms. Morrow. Dr. Farrell was so disappointed when I couldn’t tell her what Ms. Morrow meant when she said she knew the doctor’s grandparents. Dr. Farrell has no family, either. Ah, dear God, people have so many problems and it’s hard to face them alone . . . On that somber note Sophie picked up her knitting needles. She was making a sweater for her newest grandchild and had a spare half hour until it was time to go to the one job she didn’t like.
