Life in a small city to some people can be very boring but to my husband of many years and I, it was some of the best days of our lives.

I still remember walking down the hallway and hearing the strong tenor voice of my husband in the shower singing one of his favorite songs. On every warm summer night we would walk down to the falls outside the city to listen to a phenomenon the local people called the "choir of the angels." Just at dusk, if you listened very closely above the roar of the falls you could hear the sweet sound of voices combine in a song that would sooth the most troubled soul. Arm-in-arm we would stroll home, content that tomorrow would bring an even brighter day.

Love is measured by every person in his or her way, but in all our years together my measurement was the time I spent with my husband. Unexpectedly, one day my husband came home with sad news that his plant was moving and that we would have to move into the big city. One last trip to the falls did little to lift our spirits so with a tear in our eyes we pulled away knowing that part of our lives was being left behind.

Life in the big city was much different than what we were used to, but we struggled on -- knowing that as long as we had each other nothing could be greater. Day after day, year after year, we worked to make this place a home for not only ourselves but also our new daughter. Time has a way of making people forget the past but I could tell that my husband never forgot the peace and tranquility of the home we had years ago.

Unexpectedly, one dark day, beaten down by the harshness of life itself, my husband became ill and shortly thereafter died.

With his last breath he begged me to take our daughter back to the small city where we lived so many happy and joyous days.

Trying to live after his death was the hardest thing I ever tried to do -- locking myself in a small world that only included my daughter and I. Slowly, I finally let a small amount of friends back into a world that not long ago was full of happiness, but now seemed a dark and lonely place. Remembering his last wish, I packed up our belongings and my daughter and I set out to find the happiness back in that small town.

Peace throughout history has proven very hard to find, but it is even harder to find within yourself. Getting back to the small town seemed to lift my spirits and being around old friends let me get back to life as we know it now.

One warm summer night, my daughter and I strolled arm in arm down to the falls just about dark and stood and listened to the falls.

Suddenly, just above the roar of the falls we heard a strong tenor voice join in a song. With tears in my eyes, I knew that finally my husband had joined the choir of the angels.