I loved my husband Elias more than life itself. I was 39 and he was 52 when we first met. He was the most considerate and endearing individual I have ever met.

We got married after a year of dating, and everything in our lives seemed ideal. But a few years later, he received a stage 4 pancreatic cancer diagnosis.
I spent my days taking care of him. I cared for him, bathed him, and supported him during the agony for two years. Jordan and Maya, his kids, hardly ever came to see. Even when they did, they didn’t remain long. They would say, “We can’t bear to see dad like this.” And since I was the one who could, the one who wanted to make his days easier and let him know how much he was loved, I was okay with it.

My husband died tragically, and his kids visited the house I shared with their father the day after his funeral, telling me I had until the end of the week to vacate.
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My husband died tragically, and his kids visited the house I shared with their father the day after his funeral, telling me I had until the end of the week to vacate.
They stated, as icily as though I had no significance to them, “Dad left the house to us and we are selling it.”
A few days later, I was carrying two luggage that weighed as much as Elias’ kids’ treachery.

I stood in front of the house I used to call home, wondering what my life would be like going forward, since I had nowhere to stay.

My husband died tragically, and his kids visited the house I shared with their father the day after his funeral, telling me I had until the end of the week to vacate.
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However, a text message disrupted my train of thought. Examine the Fremont storage container. Locker 112. Elias desired for you to possess it.
The number from which the message was sent was unknown. “Is this a joke of some kind?” Despite my doubts, I chose to inspect that storage unit.

It felt like it took forever to get to the unit. I didn’t know what to anticipate.

The manager checked my ID and gave me a key when I got there. He smiled as he stated, “Locker 112 is yours now.”
My hands began to shake as I inserted the key. Slowly, the door opened to reveal a small room filled with boxes and a single wooden chest.

I was also the recipient of some letters.
As it turned out, my husband wanted to protect my future because he knew how greedy his kids were. There discovered a collection of jewelry, probably belonging to his late wife, among the letters he wrote about his love for me. Additionally, there were deeds for three vacation houses in various locations across the nation, all in my name.

A purple pouch was inside the wooden chest. The largest diamond ring I’ve ever seen was nestled inside of it.
After several months, I began to flourish. I discovered my calm when I moved into one of the vacation houses in the Colorado Rockies.

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