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I thought my husband died — then, 3 years later, he moved into the apartment next door with ANOTHER WOMAN AND A CHILD. My name is Katie. I was eight months pregnant when my husband, Ron, died. A crash. Ron lost control of the car and went off the road into a ditch. From the shock and stress, I lost our baby. They buried Ron in a closed casket beside our unborn child. It felt like my entire life was collapsing. In one awful day, my whole future—my home, my family, everything—was gone. It took me three years to start living again. I moved to a new city, found a job, and tried to survive by not looking back. This Sunday, I heard loud banging and scraping near the entrance of my building. When I looked out the window, I saw a young family moving in — a man, a woman, and a little girl. That could have been Ron and me if things had turned out differently. Then my blood turned to ice. The man glanced up toward my window. HE LOOKED EXACTLY LIKE RON. Same haircut. Same eyes. Same nose and lips. Like they were twins. A moment later, I heard footsteps on the stairs. The man and the child climbed up to my floor. They were moving into the apartment next to mine. I couldn’t stop myself. I opened my door. I knew Ron was dead, but standing in front of me was his LIVING COPY. “Excuse me, sir… this is going to sound strange, but do you know anyone named Ron?” I asked. “No,” he answered quickly, then scooped the little girl into his arms. “Katie, let’s go home.” His daughter and I had the same name. How could that be a coincidence? I stepped closer, my heart slamming in my chest. “You look so much like… I’m sorry, I just… I used to know someone who looked exactly like you.” He tried to shut the door in my face. But I saw the one thing that mattered. TWO MISSING FINGERS ON HIS HAND — the exact childhood injury Ron had. There was no way this was a mistake. And still, my mind refused to accept it. “RON… IS THAT REALLY YOU?” I screamed, bursting into tears. He looked at me with eyes full of pain. And what he said next nearly made me faint. Read more in the 1st comment
They buried my husband in a closed casket. I was eight months pregnant when I watched them lower him into the ground. No one would let me see his face. They said the crash had been too severe. They said I should remember him the way he was, as if memory could ever compete with … Read more
