Phil LeMay and his wife Judith were married for 32 years before she died of pneumonia after a protracted illness. The following is an edited interview.

The nurse said, “She can still hear you even though she’s like that.” So I put her hearing aid on and I sang her her favorite songs, You Are My Sunshine then Let It Be, and after a while she stopped breathing. That’s how she went, as I was singing. I closed her mouth and kissed her one last time and they took her out in a white blanket.

I sleep on the side where she died, right there. I get some kind of wild dreams if I sleep on the other side, I don’t know why. I feel closer to her if I’m on her side.

We were married 32 years. That’s a long stretch. And the place is pretty empty, you know? I was crying a lot, pretty bad sometimes, because she’s not here anymore and I’m left by myself. I was feeling pretty bad one day, and all of a sudden I heard a voice, “Phillip, don’t cry. Don’t cry,” like that, out of nowhere, her voice.

Then about a month later, I went down to take the bus. I was sitting on a seat and out of the corner of my eye a guy appeared and sat right next to me. He had long hair and round-rimmed glasses. I didn’t want to turn my eyes too much because I thought I was alone and all of a sudden he was there. He looks straight ahead and says, “Phil, I’m John Lennon.” Then I see him turn his head out of the corner of my eye, like that, and he goes, “Your wife Judy, she’s fine, you know. She’s okay.” Strange, I know. Why John Lennon? I still think about that.

A few days ago I was reading and about seven seconds after I put the light on it went off again. Seven seconds and she died in 2007, so I think there must be some connection there. Once I was watching TV and it went off by itself. Believe it or not. I had the remote right beside me and I didn’t even touch it. The stereo does the same thing sometimes. Makes me think she must still be around, I guess. It makes me feel better to think that.

They say when you die you’ll meet your loved ones that have departed before you. I imagine I believe in that stuff a bit. I think she’s still with me or she’s sending messengers like angels to let me know that she’s waiting. It gives me some hope, anyways.