Lest you think I'm too despondent

There are bright notes in all of this.
Their name is Danuta.
(And I might add, Karen. Ken's sister came for 10 days and was at her brother's beck and call, carrying ice tea with the 2 packets of green sweetener and the 1 of sugar, chauffering him to doctor appointments, grocery stores, the gym, the floral shop and the dry cleaners and all places in between. She cooed over him, listened to me and kept our home and hearth clean, stocked and orderly. We wept when she left.)
Danuta, our Polish friend who brought cabbage rolls last week, homemade apple cake and pickel soup yesterday, arrives at our doorstep most mornings and stays until just before I get home from work at night.
She's all things wonderful. First of all she's been cleaning our home for nearly two decades. She knows our quirks and where the garbage bags are kept. She changes the sheets, vaccums, wipes those water spots off bathroom mirrors and scrubs the shower weekly. Now she's moved on to more refined projects as she stays with Ken during the day when I am at the office.
She has reorganized the pantry, tossing what I couldn't bear to part with and rearranging the shelves in such a way that at the end of the day I find myself just going to the pantry to look at the sheer beauty of her organized Polish mind.
Same thing with the kitchen linen drawer. The assortment of towels that include Aunt Gladys' hand-embroidered kitchen towels are neatly folded by type: Aunt Gladys', the multi-colored tufted ones we bought at Costco a couple of years ago and the thin white cotton ones perfect for drying glasses. (Although you wouldn't know that by my spotty wine glasses.)
She, and others certainly, have been our comfort, especially these last two weeks.
When she couldn't come yesterday, she wound up stopping by with the Pickle Soup. (By the way, the recipe for Pickel Soup must be a national treasure. This soup is the nearest thing to homemade Chicken Noodle Soup only without the noodles and with just a hint of dill, thus the name. I'll get the recipe.)
Susan, she said, when she called me yesterday.
I brought you Pickel Soup. You have pickel soup?
No, Danuta.
I make this for Albert (her future son-in-law) and now it's his favorite. I brought you some and put it in the fridge for you.
(That meant she had driven over to our home from cleaning a home in Avondale 30-some miles away on a day she wasn't supposed to come when it was 113 to put a container of Pickel soup in our fridge for our dinner.)
I think Ken will like this? Is he ok?
He was asleep when I came in (she has a key).
Yes. He's ok, Danuta.
Will you be here tomorrow?
Yes. Susan. I will be here tomorrow. 9:30 ok?
Sure.
I get there earlier if I can.