I Went to the Theater Alone on My 63rd Anniversary… Then a Stranger Sat in My Wife’s Seat and Handed Me a Letter and Said, “Your Wife Asked Me to Pass Something on to You”
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She told no one except her parents and a priest.
I slowly looked at the young man beside me.
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He was staring at his hands.
I asked, barely able to speak, “You’re saying… you’re my son?”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
I couldn’t breathe.
He handed me a photo.
It was Gloria—very young—standing outside that same theater.
Her hand rested low on her stomach.
On the back, in her handwriting, were the words:
“The day I knew I loved his father.”
His name was Daniel.
The resemblance was undeniable.
My eyes. My face.
But Gloria’s mouth. Her posture.
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