I couldn’t believe the notebook wasn’t there. My husband was on a breathing machine, unable to speak or leave his bed for three months after what was supposed to be a “walk in the park” surgery. At first he used his iPad to stream movies, read the news and write to me. “Good night sweetheart,” he’d text before going to sleep. “Good morning sweetheart,” he’d text when he woke up. And I’d write back the same. It was our way of letting each other know we were OK. Within two months, when he was