My husband passed away three weeks before the birth of our twins. He had kept his diagnosis a secret for months and left his mother a final instruction.

Michael told her that I deserved these months.

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Months in which I didn’t have to wake up every morning wondering if this would be the day I lost him.

And somehow she agreed.

I knew absolutely nothing about any of this.

The only thing I noticed was that Michael seemed more exhausted with each passing month.

Sometimes he had to sit down after even the slightest exertion. Sometimes his face was pale, and once I found him alone in the car with some documents on his lap.

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When he noticed me, he quickly pushed them into the glove compartment and said they were work documents.

I believed him.

I was expecting twins, was exhausted, my belly was huge, and all my attention was focused on the  babies.

There was an explanation for everything.

Work.

Stress.

Sleepless nights.

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Preparing for two newborns.

Michael