He said: "She could usually tell what he was thinking. She could read it from the lines on his face. He would scrunch his face up into a tight ball and anyone could see that he was in some sort of pain. But she could read his face deeper than anyone else could. She could feel what he felt and see what it was that had taken hold of him at that moment. He, like most men, didn't know how to express himself. He didn't know what to say when someone asked him how he felt that day. She was the translator. She was the one who could divine what he was thinking about and what he wanted to say but did not have the words for. She was his voice when he had no voice to speak with. She was the one who understood him."

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