My Dying Wife Asked Me to Find My First Love as Her Final Wish—When Claire Told Me Why, My Knees Nearly Gave Out

She looked toward the living room.

“Come in.”

“You should sit down.”

PART 2 — THE LETTER I REMEMBERED

Claire’s living room smelled faintly of lavender and coffee.

Photographs filled the mantel.

Children.

Grandchildren.

A man I assumed had been her husband.

Thomas.