I married my high school sweetheart at seventy-three to honor his final wish—but after his funeral, his lawyer came to my door and said, “You walked straight into his trap.”

sweetheart told me he’d never been married either.

We laughed about our gray hair and our bad knees, and sometimes we didn’t talk at all. We just sat together.

“You still take your coffee black?” he asked one afternoon.

“Still do.”

“I knew it.”

There was something odd about how calm he was. Most patients in his condition were angry, scared, or numb. Thomas continue reading …