Imagine sweeping through green fields, floating five feet above ground,

sun on your face as you slide by, on track to your destination,

not a care in the world, as you simply lean back.

And before you know it, you're there.

This is how travel should feel.

And on our trains, it does.

Avanti West Coast, feel good travel.

Hey, hey, Waffle, gang.

I do hope you are well.

My name is Mark and today we're checking out some more relationship stories.

And if you do love a Reddit story, why not consider him and like, subscribe, maybe that

notification bell too.

Let's crack on with today's first story, which comes from STN 0071, who asks, am I the asshole for not wanting to name my child

after my late husband? And just a couple of warnings, it does talk about death and alcohol

addiction as well. Me, 31, and my current husband 35 recently found out that we're expecting twin boys.

My first husband's mother is livid that we aren't naming one of them after her son.

A little background. My first husband, Michael and I were college sweethearts.

We got married not long after graduation and I thought I would be with him for the rest of my life.

Unfortunately, we were only married for a couple of months before Michael passed away suddenly.

It was one of the worst times in my life and I never thought that I would ever fall in love again,

much less get married again or have a family.

I remained very close with Michael's mom, my mother-in-law

...