A simple whistle

Steve used to do this kind of whistle, like a dog whistle, when he was trying to find me or the kids in a crowded room. I used to think it was kind of rude, but eventually realized how effective it was, so I just got used to it. He even did it at Mercy hospital, everyone had to go out of the room for some reason and he couldn't reach his phone to call me, so he whistled that dog whistle to let me know to come back in.

Since Steve died, we were staying at my parents because I just couldn't stand to be in the house without him. Since it's been a week, I decided I needed to try to come back home and figure out how to live. We had to go grocery shopping and a guy in the store did the whistle. It's crazy how much it hurts to realize he's never going to be looking for me and whistle like that again.

It got me to thinking about a lot of little things that make him so special and I wonder, if the roles were reversed did I do enough special things that he would remember?  What would he do now?
Someone asked me how Steve would explain God's role in this and my answer is I don't know. We had discussed tragedies like this and I don't recall him ever having an answer.

If there is one thing everyone knew about Steve is that he was not willing to just accept what everyone has taught for years as Gospel. He needed to research and know for sure that it was real and not just something that became indoctrinated into "Christianity hundreds of years ago." Sometimes it drove me nuts to consider all the things that we as Christians have been taught that are wrong, but now I would give anything in the world to see him sitting in the other room in his chair researching it all.