CHAPTER 3: THE DEATH
Garrett died on a Wednesday morning.
He had a heart attack in his sleep. I woke up next to him, reached over to touch his face, and found him cold.
I screamed.
I called 911.
I held his hand and begged him to wake up.
He didn't.
The paramedics came and took him away. I stood in the doorway, watching them leave, feeling my world collapse around me.
I had loved him for fifty-three years.
And now he was gone.
The funeral was three days later.
I wore a black dress and stood beside his children, trying to find comfort in their presence.
There was none.
Catherine looked at me with pure hatred. Mark wouldn't even look at me.
"This is your fault," Catherine said after the service. "You stressed him out. You made him sick."
"He had a heart attack. It wasn't anyone's fault."
"You don't belong here. You never did."
I tried to walk away, but she grabbed my arm.
"Get out," she said. "You've embarrassed our mother's memory long enough."
"Please," I whispered. "At least let me take his photograph."
"No," Catherine said. "Nothing in this house belongs to you."
Mark dropped my old suitcase at my feet.
I left in the dress I had worn to bury my husband.
May you like
The dress I had worn to marry him.
The dress I had worn to love him.
