I bought the burial plot next to my husband after he died, but when I came to visit him on what would have been our anniversary, someone else was already buried there! I thought it was a mistake until a young man stepped forward and revealed a secret my husband had taken to his grave.
For 25 years, Daniel and I had the sort of marriage that made my friends envious.
My husband was a ruthless businessman, but at home, he was supportive and kind: the type of man who warmed my side of the bed for me, never forgot an anniversary, and helped around the house without me needing to ask.
I thought he was a good man.
I was wrong.
I had the sort of marriage that made my friends envious.
When he died three weeks ago on an icy road coming back from a business trip, it felt like the ground gave out under my whole life.
“They said it was instant,” I told my sister that night. “I just… I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
“He knew you loved him, Erin.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as fresh tears filled my eyes. “That isn’t the same.”
“I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
At the funeral, I sat in the front row, stared at Daniel’s casket, and thought, We were supposed to grow old together.
We’d had plans. We’d decided to retire in a smaller house with a deep porch. We’d planned road trips through New England in the fall.
We’d discussed spoiling our grandkids — if our daughter Julia ever decided to have children.
We’d planned to be buried side by side, but we hadn’t bought the plots yet.
We thought we had time.
We’d planned to be buried side by side.
After the funeral, I did something impulsive, expensive, and completely unlike me. I went to the cemetery office and bought the plot next to his.
I used almost all of my savings. It was irrational. Daniel would have told me not to. He would have said we should think it through, make a budget, and be sensible.
Be First to Comment