Toby looked down at his shoes with a shy smile. “He’d say they’re too shiny.”

“He would,” I replied warmly.

For a moment, almost out of habit, I reached out, expecting to feel Walter’s hand there.

At the end of the service, as people began to leave, Ruth touched my arm.

“Mom, do you want to go out for some air?”

“Not yet,” I said.

It was then that I noticed a man standing silently near Walter’s photograph. He paused, as if unsure whether to approach.

“Do you know him?” Ruth asked softly.

“I don’t think so,” I replied. But his old army jacket caught my attention. “Although he might have known your father.”

The man slowly approached us, and suddenly the room seemed smaller.

“Edith?” he asked softly.

I nodded. “Yes. Did you know Walter?”

“My name is Paul,” he said. “We served together many years ago.”

I studied his face. “Walter never mentioned you.”

Paul gave a faint smile. “He probably wouldn’t have.”

Then he held out a small box. The edges were worn, as if it had been carried around for many years.

“He made me promise something,” Paul said softly. “If I outlived him, this was for you.”

My hands shook as I accepted it.

Inside the box was a thin gold wedding band, smaller than mine and worn with age. Beneath it lay a folded note, written in Walter’s familiar handwriting.

For one terrible moment, my heart raced with fear.

“Mom?” Ruth asked softly. “What’s going on?”

I stared at the ring.

“This isn’t mine,” I whispered.

Toby looked confused. “Did Grandpa leave you another ring?”

I slowly shook my head. “No, honey. It belongs to someone else.”

I turned to Paul, my voice tense.