I Gave My Jacket to a Homeless Woman on Thanksgiving – 2 Years Later, She Showed Up at My Door with a Black Backpack and an Unforgettable Smile
Thanksgiving had lost all real significance for me after I lost my wife, Marla, at forty-nine. Her cancer was slow and merciless—the kind that drains a person of voice and presence long before death arrives. For three months, I slept in a recliner next to her hospice bed, often forgetting what it felt like to…