I received the letter about six weeks after my husband’s funeral. It was signed, “Love, Your Marshmallow.” It was the same thing he called me when we were dating. She clearly didn’t know that her “Teddy Bear” was pushing daisies.
I could’ve been angry, but I wasn’t. At twenty-two, the girl is just a kid.
He convinced her they were going to be together, and she loved him for it. In the letter, she detailed how they were going to meet for her twenty-third birthday. It was going to be their little secret.
But the dead don’t have any secrets.