She handed me a folded piece of paper and said, “Before you say anything else, read this.” It was a note from my husband, written only a few weeks before he passed. He had asked his sister to make sure the kids and I had at least one proper family meal every week, no matter how bad things became. He knew I would refuse money, and he knew I would hate feeling like anyone was taking care of me. So he asked her to help in the one way he thought I might eventually accept.
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