After 65 years of marriage, I believed there were no surprises left—no hidden corners, no unfinished stories. When you spend a lifetime with someone, you assume you’ve seen everything that matters.
I hadn’t.
I’m 85 now. My husband, Martin, was part of my life for so long that I barely remember a time before him. We met as children in a church choir. I was already in a wheelchair, already used to the way people either avoided me or treated me differently.