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

Never would I read them. It was similar to opening his head.

I opened the first journal after pulling it down.

However, Susan’s words continued to reverberate: “Two. A boy and a girl.”

I opened the first journal after pulling it down.

One week following our wedding, the first entry was made. He wrote about the awful motel we stayed at on our honeymoon. The air conditioner broke. I chuckle.

I turned the pages over.

About us, page after page.

About our initial fertility consultation, he wrote. In the car, I was crying.

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

I proceeded to the subsequent journal. Next comes the next. About us, page after page. about our altercations. Our inside jokes. I get migraines. He was afraid of flying. Bills and holidays.

Not a word about another woman.

No hidden children. Don’t live two lives.

Darkness crept into the writing.

My eyes were burning by the time I got to the sixth journal.

The tone shifted halfway through. Darkness crept into the writing.

“Susan pushing again,” he wrote. wants to keep us imprisoned for three years. declining quality. The last shipment was not good. People became ill.

“Told her we’re done,” is the next entry. She snapped. said that I was destroying her company.

Then: “We could sue; the lawyer says we’d prevail.” However, she has two children. refuse to remove food from their table.

What if there were no children who were hidden?

In stronger writing beneath that: “I’ll let it go. However, I will never forget her abilities.

With my journal open and my hands trembling, I sat on the bed.

two children. Her children. Not his.

What if there were no children who were hidden?