For fifty-two years of marriage, my wife kept our attic locked tight. I trusted her every time she said it was nothing but old junk. After all that time, I never imagined that breaking that lock would unravel everything I thought I knew about my family.
I’m not someone who usually writes on the internet. I’m seventy-six years old, retired Navy, and my grandkids still tease me for typing with two fingers. But what happened a couple of weeks ago shook me in a way I don’t have words for, and I can’t carry it alone anymore.
