I decided to sell my wife’s car five months after she passed. But when I opened the glovebox to clean it… I found a secret that took my breath away…

My name is Robert. Five months after my wife passed away, I made up my mind to sell her car.

It had just been sitting there in the driveway since the day she died, untouched. I figured it was time to let it go. But what was supposed to be a simple step toward moving forward ended up turning into something I never expected.

While getting the car ready to sell, I found something that shook me so deeply. It made me start questioning everything I once believed to be true. About her.

About us. About our entire life together. After Nancy died, everything about my life just lost its shape.

I don’t know how else to put it. Things that used to matter stopped feeling important. Days started to blur together.

Nights felt longer, heavier. I would wake up in the morning, stare at the ceiling for God knows how long, and then force myself out of bed. Because I had a job to show up to and bills to pay.

So I dragged myself up, go through the motions, shave, shower, dress. But the truth is, I wasn’t really there. My body showed up, but my mind didn’t.

Even when I made it to the office, sitting behind that desk felt like a punishment. I would stare at my screen and barely take in the words. I was disconnected from everything.

Grief does that. Sometimes I would find myself stuck in a memory of the last week before she died. Her death wasn’t sudden, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Nancy had breast cancer. We didn’t even know until it was already too late. By the time the doctors found it, the cancer had already moved from her breast to her lungs.

It had spread quietly, and by the time it showed symptoms, constant coughing, chest pains, it was already stage four. The doctors told us that treatment wasn’t going to cure her, but they could try to buy her more time, and we took what we could get. They gave her medication.

She took it without complaining. She smiled through it most days, but I could see the pain eating away at her. Some days she couldn’t even get out of bed.

I knew my priorities had to change. I cut down on work immediately. Nothing seemed more important than being by her side.

Every second that I wasn’t at work, I spent it with her. I drove her to every appointment. I tried to stay strong for her, even when I felt like crumbling.

We spent nearly a year in and out of hospitals. Every time we got a checkup, I held my breath, hoping for even the smallest sign that things were getting better. But deep down, I knew it was just wishful thinking…