I Visited My Husband’s Grave Every Day – Until I Found a Shivering Girl There Holding His Photo

“You know my mom?” she asked, nodding slowly.

“I’m not his daughter,” she said, hesitating.

“Wait, what? Then… help me understand, Vicky.”

“My sister was.

She died when she was five. I was eight then. Mom divorced my dad when she found out she was pregnant with my sister.”

“My mom never got over it,” she added, picking a loose thread on the blanket.

“She used to tell me stories about him. About how kind he was.”

“She didn’t tell him?” I asked.

I sat beside her, still holding the letter.

“What made you come now?”

Vicky looked at me, tears finally welling.

“Being where, hon? At home?”

“Yes,” Vicky said, her voice breaking.

“I think all my mom’s love went with my sister. And she’s never been the same with me again…”

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