At 73, I Married My Dying High School Sweetheart as His Final Wish—After the Funeral, His Lawyer Knocked on My Door and Said, “You Walked Right Into His Trap”

Then I remembered Thomas’s letter.

Do not build a shrine to me.

So I painted.

Soft green.

Much better.

Every Sunday morning, I opened one of Thomas’s letters.

Not because I promised.

Because I wanted to.