After Marian died, Eliam had occasionally helped Frank with electronics and online accounts, so the request hadn’t seemed unusual.
“When I got there, he had a form open on his computer,” Eliam explained.
“He kept complaining about how confusing the website was.”
“Was it confusing?”
“Very.”
Despite everything, I smiled a little.
“But that wasn’t really the problem,” he continued.
Eventually, Frank admitted that reading unfamiliar documents had always been difficult for him.
He could recognize common signs.
Names.
Short instructions.
Familiar words.
But long paragraphs were much harder.
Forms were particularly challenging.
Marian had quietly handled most of that paperwork throughout their marriage.
“Did you ever know?” I asked.
Eliam shook his head.
“No.”
Neither had I.
I suddenly remembered all the little things Marian used to do.
She wrote their Christmas cards.
Completed neighborhood forms.
Prepared labels for community gatherings.
Handled written invitations.
At the time, I’d assumed it was simply how they shared responsibilities.
