Jake was dying. His wife, Becky, was maintaining a candlelight vigil by his side. She held his fragile hand, tears running down her face. Her praying roused him from his slumber; He looked up and his pale lips began to move slightly. "Becky my darling" he whispered. "Hush my love," she said. "Rest, don`t talk." He was insistent. "Becky," he said in
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