After I signed my house over to my son, he and his wife moved me into the damp, cold basement. For three months, I lived on a cot, eating their leftovers, feeling my hope drain away. They treated me like a prisoner in my own home. They thought they had won. They didn’t know about the secret my late husband left me: a dusty envelope with five words written on it—”Open when all is lost.”
The day my son moved me into the basement, I realized love can die quietly—under the same roof it was born. The cold became a […]
