The Love That Died

"We met in college - I a Wellesley girl, he a Harvard guy. It was just like it was in the movies. He swept me off my feet. We were married before we graduated. Looking back, we were just children, really. As a graduation gift to my family, I shared my first pregnancy - our daughter, Karen. She was our world, our reason for being. Not long after that, we were blessed with our son, Jackson. Darren was a savvy businessman, loved his job and his family. Our lives were, for us, perfect. We became parents, grandparents, soon to be great-grandparents. Darren was a wonderful man and father and husband. He will be missed by many."

A few tears streamed down my face. I sniffled. I had done it. I took my seat back in the first pew. My kids patted my shoulders, hugged me.

A few other family member got up and spoke of Darren, a few funny stories to try to lighten the mood.

Eventually people began filing out, hugging me and saying how sorry they were for my loss. I had opted for an outdoor service for one reason. My allergies would make sure I was convincing.

Finally it was just myself and the kids. I asked for a moment alone with my husband. They obliged. I waited until they were out of ear shot.

"I loved you. I married you. I bore children for you. I raised them for you. I was a dutiful wife to you. I know you didn't love me the same. I'm not sure when the love left, but it did. So did the respect. You lived a lie. You made my life a lie. In turn, you made me liar; I lied to the kids about you. I always told you that you could tell me anything. If you had just told me, I would have understood. I would have respected you. Don't get me wrong, I still would have been mad, but I would have forgiven you. We could have been so much happier. Instead you lied, you became a sneak, and you thought I didn't know. I knew. I knew about all of it. There would have been no shame had you just told me. Instead I discover from the lawyer that you left part of your estate to him. What am I supposed to tell your children? You bastard. You fucking bastard. Rot in Hell."

I turned to leave, to return to my family. How many of them know? If they know, how long have they known? I don't want their pity. I don't want their sympathy. I don't to see that look in their eyes. I knew he was here. He knew I knew. I could see it in his eyes.

The question remained: How do I tell our children that their parents lives were all a lie?

I remained stoic as I made my way across the cemetery lawn. But now the tears were real.