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”
More useful.
And love?
Love was Thomas making sure I met my own lawyer.
Love was me refusing to become his nurse once we recognized each other.
Love was him saying:
Do not turn our month into destiny.
Love was my painting the kitchen green.
Love was accepting what he gave without spending the rest of my life proving gratitude.
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