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

Mostly, I sat cross-legged beside his headstone, gloved fingers brushing over the carved letters like they were Braille I hadn’t stopped learning.

I knelt by the grave like I always did, brushing away the brittle leaves that had gathered at the base.

The flowers I’d brought two days ago were still upright, though the tips had browned in the cold.

“Morning, babe,” I murmured, tucking the stems tighter against the stone. I didn’t come for answers anymore, just the quiet.

But the quiet wasn’t mine that morning.

“I miss you,” I whispered. “Every single day, in ways I never say out loud.”

And that was my routine.

I never expected company.

Continue reading…