At My Husband's Funeral, I Opened His Casket to Place a Flower—and Found a Crumpled Note Tucked Under His Hands I was 55 years old, and for the first time since I was 19, there was no one left I could call “my husband.” Greg and I had been married for thirty-six years. Ours wasn’t the kind of love people show off online. It wasn’t flashy or dramatic. It was quiet. Steady. The kind of love built on grocery lists, shared dentist appointments, and the way he always chose the outside seat at restaur