[trying to jog Otis' memory on something her late husband might have said]

He called me his Woogly. He always used to talk to me in the third person, like Oh is my little Woogly sleepy? Does my little Woogly want a piece of bread?

[overtaken with emotion upon hearing what she thinks were here husband's final words]

(crying)

My God it was beautiful. Thank you, thank you.

(hugs him)