I thought losing my husband was the hardest thing I’d ever face—until my own sister turned on me after our father’s death. What started as a simple inheritance became the spark for a betrayal that nearly destroyed everything I had left.
I’m 28 years old, and I never imagined I’d be this exhausted by life so early. Honestly, my life could be mistaken for a dark soap opera.
I’ve been a widow for three years. My husband, Ryan, passed away from a car crash on his way home from work.
One moment, I was texting him about dinner, and the next, I was at the hospital holding his cold hand and telling him everything would be okay, even though it already wasn’t.
After the funeral, I started spending more time with my parents; loss has a way of bringing people closer. However, I mostly became more available because I couldn’t handle the silence in our house. Jasper, my son, was just four then.
He needed stability, and so did I.Continue reading…
