At My Husband’s Funeral, I Placed a Rose in His Hands and Discovered the Note He Never Got to Give Me

it, something else stirred.

A need to know.

I walked to the closet.

Greg’s brown winter coat was still hanging there, smelling faintly of rain and his aftershave. My hand slid into the back pocket, and my fingers touched thick paper.

An envelope.

It was heavier than I expected, the kind of weight that suggests more than a single letter. On the front, in continue reading …