That's when I saw it.
I told myself, This is my last chance to do something for you.
When the line thinned, I walked up with a single red rose. I leaned over and gently lifted his hands to tuck the stem between them.
That's when I saw it.
A small white rectangle, tucked under his fingers. Not a prayer card. Wrong size.
No one looking guilty.
Someone had put something in my husband's casket and hadn't told me.
I glanced around. Everyone was in little clusters. No one watching me closely. No one looking guilty.
He's my husband. If there's a secret in there, it belongs to me more than anyone.
My fingers shook as I slid the paper free and tucked the rose in its place. I slipped the note into my purse and walked straight down the hall to the restroom.
For a second, I didn't understand the words. Then I did.
I locked the door, leaned against it, and unfolded the paper.
The handwriting was neat, careful. Blue ink.
"Even though we could never be together the way we deserved… my kids and I will love you forever."
For a second, I didn't understand the words.
Then I did.
