I would visit my husband Owen’s grave every Sunday, hoping that the quiet of the graveyard would help me feel better. After a year, the pain still felt like an open wound from his quick death. We had loved, laughed, and gone on many adventures together for 25 years. His loss had left a huge hole in my life. But when I stood in front of his gravestone, I felt like I was connected to him and relaxed, which I didn’t feel in my everyday life.
A disturbing finding, on the other hand, messed up my weekly routine. I started to notice that raw eggs were broken against Owen’s gravestone, making a mess and making me feel uneasy. When I first heard about it, I thought it was a stupid joke pulled by someone with too much free time. As the events went on, though, I understood that Owen’s grave was being targeted on purpose, and each day my heart grew heavier. I begged the graveyard staff to make things safer so they could catch the person who did it, but it looked like I was going to lose.
When I finally found out the truth, it shocked me more than I could have thought. I got to the graveyard early on the anniversary of Owen’s death because I was determined to catch the person who did it in the act.
That’s when I saw her: Madison, my sister, standing in front of Owen’s grave with an egg in her shaking hand. It shocked me, and my mind was full of questions and charges. But Madison’s answer hit me hard in the gut. She told me a secret that she said Owen had not told me, and it could destroy everything I thought I knew about our marriage.
Madison said that she and Owen had been seeing each other for five years, even though he had told her they would get married. But after he died, she had nothing left: no thanks, no money, and no peace.
Some parts of me didn’t believe it and others did. I didn’t know what to believe or who to trust. But as I talked to Carly, Madison’s daughter, I saw a different picture. Carly told me that her mother had never talked about having an affair because she wanted to be with Owen more than I did.
At that moment, I understood that Madison’s anger and hatred were not directed at Owen, but at her own fears and mistakes. At that point, I knew I had to let go of Madison’s harmful influence in order to cherish my memories of Owen and remember him as the man I loved, not as Madison said he was.
