At my husband’s funeral, a gray-haired man came up to me and whispered, “Now we are free.” It was the one I had loved at twenty, but we were torn apart.
The earth smelled of grief and damp. Every clod thrown onto the coffin lid thudded dully somewhere beneath my ribs. Fifty years. An entire life lived with Dmitry. A life filled with quiet respect, with habit that had grown into tenderness. I didn’t cry. My tears had dried up last night, when I sat by … Read more