I see Mary and she is radiantly beautiful as she had been before the illness. She is happy and smiling and talking animatedly. She is talking about her illness and how she is certain it has been beaten, and with her attitude of determination and confidence, she is positive there will be no recurrence and that she will remain well and live for a long, long time. My arms are around her and we are facing each other. I'm thrilled with how well she is and with her attitude. We confess our love for each other. I tell her I'm sorry that I haven't said to her, for such a long time, "I love you." Mary also expresses regret that she hasn't told me that she loves me for a long time because she's been preoccupied with her illness. But now that she is well, there is no reason for us not to tell each other of our love for one another very frequently.