At My Husband’s Funeral, I Opened His Casket to Place a Flower — and Found a Crumpled Note Tucked Under His Hands

He wrote about our first fertility appointment. Me crying in the car.

He wrote, “I wish I could trade bodies with her and take this pain.”

I went to the next journal.

Then the next. Page after page about us. About our fights.

Our inside jokes. My migraines. His fear of flying.

Holidays. Bills.

No mention of another woman.

No secret kids.

No double life.

By the time I reached the sixth journal, my eyes burned.

Halfway through, the tone changed. The writing got darker.

Continue reading…