PART 2: I was 6 minutes into my husband Paul’s eulogy when his mother, Evelyn, stood up in the front pew and corrected me like I had mispronounced a recipe. There were 137 people in the funeral home, and she said, “Let’s not pretend you were his great love.” Then she lifted Paul’s old Bible from her lap. I closed my folder, looked at the funeral director, and asked him to bring me the envelope from Paul’s coat.
PART 2 — THE ENVELOPE PAUL LEFT BEHIND I slid my finger beneath the flap. The sound of paper tearing seemed impossibly loud in a room holding 137 silent people. …
PART 2: I was 6 minutes into my husband Paul’s eulogy when his mother, Evelyn, stood up in the front pew and corrected me like I had mispronounced a recipe. There were 137 people in the funeral home, and she said, “Let’s not pretend you were his great love.” Then she lifted Paul’s old Bible from her lap. I closed my folder, looked at the funeral director, and asked him to bring me the envelope from Paul’s coat. Read More