The man whose ashes were in a small urn in my bedroom.
I put my hand over my mouth, tears blurring my vision.
“This can’t be true,” I whispered.
“This photo was taken three weeks ago,” the senior officer said.
“The man used his husband’s CPR number during a roadside check.
The system started working.”
My heart was beating fast.
“Do you think someone impersonated my husband?”
“We thought so too,” the officer replied.
“Until a fingerprint from an old military record matched.”
My world was turned upside down.
Ethan and I have been married for eleven years.
He was an engineer.
Quiet.
Reliable.
A man who hated attention.
He reportedly died five years ago in a boating accident off the coast of California.
The Coast Guard said the currents were strong.
No body was ever found.
Just personal items.
His scrotum.
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