My Children Called Him The Porch Angel—Then I Found My Dead Husband’s Lighter

Engraved on the metal were two letters.

D.H.

David Harper.

My husband.

“No…”

My hands shook violently.

David carried that lighter everywhere.

For years.

He would flip it open absentmindedly while helping the kids with homework.

While sitting on the porch after dinner.

While talking to me late at night.

There was no mistake.

It was his.

I stumbled back inside feeling physically ill.

How could a stranger have my husband’s lighter?

The next morning, after the children left for school, I climbed into the attic.

Dust filled the air.

Boxes surrounded me.

I tore through them desperately.

“Come on,” I muttered.

“Come on…”

Finally, I found one of David’s old work jackets stuffed inside a plastic storage bin.

As I lifted it, something shifted inside the lining.

I reached into an inner pocket.

Then everything changed.

Out came envelopes.