I Married a Homeless Man Who Had One Month Left to Live – But the Letter I Received After His Funeral Made the Blood Drain from My Face
“There’s something else. Larry asked me to pull this after the marriage was recorded, in case you ever came looking for me.”
She removed a clear plastic sleeve and placed it in front of me.
Inside was a copy of our marriage certificate.
My name.
Larry’s.
And beside his:
SPOUSE.
“There’s something else.”
I remembered how carefully he’d folded his copy after the ceremony.
How he’d asked the clerk twice where to sign.
How I’d teased him.
“You’re acting like this is a real wedding.”
I’d teased him.
Larry had gone quiet for a second.
Then he’d smiled.
“First marriage. Let me have my nerves.”
I’d laughed.
Now I couldn’t.
***
Margaret sat beside me.
“Did Larry tell you why he wanted to marry you?”
I’d laughed. Now I couldn’t.
“He told me a reason.”
I explained about the letter.
The burial story.
The way he’d admitted making the situation sound worse because he knew I would help.
When I finished, Margaret didn’t defend him.
“That wasn’t fair to you, dear.”
“He told me a reason.”
I looked at her.
