He suggested that she do as little as possible.
He made breakfast for them both and reluctantly left for work. The weather was good and she could lay out on the sunbed and admire the garden. The garden that she had created over the years. One that she could no longer tend. On the train he thought about her. He knew that for the next few weeks she’d never be out of his thoughts. He’d suggested an overseas trip or a cruise, but she hadn’t wanted that. Should he stop work? Her answer was no. Today she would bask in the sun and take pleasure in her surroundings. She had always loved her garden.
Wasn’t it Robert Louis Stevenson who wrote that you were closer to God’s heart in a garden?
If the diagnosis was correct, she was only a month or so away from being even closer.