At My Husband’s Farewell Service, I Discovered a Hidden Letter

At fifty-five, after thirty-six years of marriage, I suddenly found myself alone. Greg had been my steady companion since I was nineteen, the quiet constant of a life built on shared routines and everyday devotion. His passing in a sudden road accident divided my world into before and after.

By the day of his farewell service, grief had hollowed me out. The chapel was filled with soft music, flowers, and murmured condolences as I approached his resting place with a single rose. He looked peaceful, dressed in the suit I had bought for our last anniversary.

As I gently placed the flower in his hands, I noticed a small folded note tucked beneath his fingers. Something about it felt secretive, out of place. With trembling hands, I slipped it into my purse, knowing I needed to understand what it meant.

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