For 19 years, my husband sent $74.12 every month to a woman I had never heard of — and when I found her name after his funeral, I drove across Colorado ready to hate him.
I did not open the envelope immediately. That was the first mercy I gave myself. The young woman stood across from me in the small living room, one hand resting on the toddler’s shoulder, the other still hovering near the rusted shoebox as if she might need to close it fast. Her name was Lila….
