Did my wife see God when she listened to this aria?

From the final act of Puccini’s opera ‘Turandot.’

Susan listened to Pavarotti singing  the aria ‘Nessun Dorma’ the night before she died. That music, and the close-to-God look on her face is my last living memory of her.

Nessun dorma’ is Italian for “None shall sleep.”

But now Susan is asleep, some say forever in an un-life of oblivion; others say until Jesus returns; and others say she is awake in an eternal world of wondrous glory.

And I say, I don’t know. But I fear the worst. That I will never be with her again. And that is why this empty house that we shared now resounds with the sustained high-note aria that moved her soul.



  1. Thank you for asking that. The last 10 months have been the hardest of my life. It’s a cold lonely Saturday night in the New York area, so I’m feeling really down right now. But I will get through the night, thanks to good hearts like yours. Bill.

  2. Bill, I’m so sorry you feel this way. I read a few of your pieces and I guess I got a sense of the devastation and darkness of the place you’re in right now. I wanted to reach out – from one side of the world to another. Life can be so cruel, so tragic, so unfair… if there is anything that makes you feel like you can get through this, you should do it. Use whatever supports are available to you, never say no to them, never feel like you have to go through those darkest moments alone. Hang in there Bill. Spring will come, and you’ll always miss her, but it will get easier to live without her. Rachel.

  3. Rachel, your words help. They give me hope, and they came all the way from NZ in a split second. Amazing. And for now, they lift the darkness a little, I’ll hang on to that. Thank you.