A posthumous literary love story

The literary pairing was inevitable.

“When Breath Becomes Air,” Paul Kalanithi’s memoir of his final years as he faced lung cancer at age 37, was published posthumously, in 2016, to critical acclaim and commercial success. “The Bright Hour,” Nina Riggs’ memoir of her final years as she faced breast cancer at age 39, was published posthumously, in 2017, to critical acclaim and commercial success. The two books were mentioned together in numerous reviews, lists and conversations.

Perhaps less inevitable was that the late authors’ spouses would end up together, too.

“I’m still surprised,” said Lucy Kalanithi of her relationship with Nina Riggs’ widower, John Duberstein. “I’m surprised by how ridiculous it is and how natural it is at the same time.”

Sitting across the kitchen table from Lucy recently at her home in San Mateo, California, John agreed. “Everything seemed almost bizarrely to fit,” he said. “It was kind of stunning.”

In the final days of her life, Nina Riggs was worried about her husband and how he would get on with his life when she was gone. She made an offhand suggestion: Contact Lucy Kalanithi.

At the time John had only a vague idea who Lucy was. He had yet to finish “When Breath Becomes Air.”

Lucy and Nina, however, had formed a quiet relationship. Lucy, whose husband died in March 2015, had contacted Nina after reading a Modern Love column she had written for The New York Times. Lucy wrote a glowing blurb for “The Bright Hour” and stayed in touch with Nina’s agent, inquiring about Nina’s health and her family.

On Feb. 24, two days before Nina died, Lucy sent her an email message: “I’m beaming you love from my whole being.” She signed it, “your forever fan, lucy.”

At a hospice in Greensboro, North Carolina, John read the email to his ailing wife and responded on her behalf. “Thank you for being such a strong supporter and friend to her,” he said. “She’s talked about you a ton these past few weeks, and her sense of you being a person with great insight and empathy. She’s clearly on the mark there.”

John, a 41-year-old lawyer, was unmoored by his wife’s death. So he did as his wife had suggested. His note to Lucy — two days after Nina died — was lengthy and, in Lucy’s words, “obscenely vulnerable.” His requests for advice were wide-ranging: How do I write a eulogy? How do I sleep through the night? How do I not go insane?

Lucy wrote back immediately, advising John to focus on the eulogy and “to take a chill pill” about the rest.

John got through the eulogy. He got through the next day. And over the next few weeks and months, Lucy became his lifeline — and, in turn, he helped her realize that she had come a long way in the two years since her husband’s death. “I felt like your guardian,” she said. “You totally were,” he said.

Their feelings for one another grew and took on new shape. “We talked a lot about the minefield of managing to fall in love and actively grieve at the same time,” she said.

In late April, Lucy, who is 38 and a clinical assistant professor of medicine at Stanford, had a business trip to Raleigh, North Carolina, about an hour from John’s home. Seeing each other face-to-face was intense. “We held each other a long time,” she said. There were two dinner dates and, by both accounts, “a lot of chemistry.” Kalanithi then returned to California.

Their relationship was blossoming but still mostly a secret. John’s children — Freddy, 10, and Benny, 8 — knew about it, as did Lucy’s 3-year-old daughter, Cady. Nina’s publisher had arranged a dual publicity tour in June for John and Lucy — given the common theme of “When Breath Becomes Air” and “The Bright Hour.”

By the end of the summer, the couple had begun to speak openly about the relationship to their extended family and friends. The families got together regularly — though the arrangements are difficult, with three children, two jobs and a continent between them.

For now, they are relishing their time together, in all its complexity. On Dec. 31, Lucy, John and the three kids headed out to visit Paul Kalanithi’s grave, which overlooks the Pacific Ocean. They played Paul’s favorite music and blew New Year’s noisemakers. Together with members of Paul’s extended family they watched the last sunset of a sad, happy and surprising year.