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”
Again at seventy-three.
Some people get one chapter.
Thomas got two separated by fifty-six years.
I like that.
The letters sit in a cedar box in my bedroom now.
I do not read them every Sunday anymore.
At first I did.
Then every month.
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