Five years after my husband’s d.eath, I accidentally broke a flower pot he had given me shortly before his d.eath: And what I found b.uried deep in the ground made me scream in horror.

it himself.

My husband never kept secrets from me.

Or so I thought.

My fingers trembled as I lifted the bundle free from the dirt. The fabric was yellowed, aged. The knot was deliberate, careful.

It hadn’t fallen in there by accident.

I sat on the cold tiles, soil staining my knees, staring at it. Part of me didn’t want to open it. Because opening it meant continue reading …