Three years after my husband's death, I was asked to donate his heart to his "one true love."

Three years after I died, my husband, David, was about to marry his terminally ill high school sweetheart, Emily. He showed up at my mom's house, demanding I sign divorce papers. My mom told him I was dead. David scoffed, impatient. “That’s her game, is it? Pulling this stunt now? Emily’s dying! I just want to be there for her. How can Hannah be so selfish?” He glared at my mom. “Tell her if she doesn’t show up, I'll cut off your health insurance.” He thought he could use me to manipulate Mom. He didn't know she'd already stopped treatment, holding on only to see him regret his actions.

1.

Three years. It took David three years to remember me. He was now a hotshot entrepreneur, and I, a ghost tethered to the earth by some unfinished business. He stood on my mom's porch, surveying the empty living room. "Get Hannah out here!" he barked. Mom, frail and worn, simply said, "My daughter is dead." David sneered. "Dead? Someone as self-absorbed as Hannah? Please. She’s just throwing a tantrum because Emily's sick and I’m spending time with her.” He stormed inside, searching every room, but I was nowhere to be found. “Hannah’s dead,” Mom repeated. “If you want to find her, go to her grave.” David's face hardened. “You think this will work? Tell your daughter if she doesn’t sign the divorce papers, I'll cancel your health insurance." He tossed the papers on the table. “Three days. She signs, then we go to the courthouse. If not…” His eyes held a chilling coldness I’d never seen. “You won’t last much longer.” He slammed the door, leaving me heartbroken. He’d use my mom's life to force a divorce. But Mom’s eyes held a strange peace. She watched him go, then pulled a photo of me as a child from a drawer, tracing my face. "Hannah, honey," she whispered. "Mom will be with you soon."

2.

Obviously, I couldn't sign the divorce papers. A few days later, David, true to his word, canceled Mom’s insurance. She was elderly, with heart problems, diabetes, high blood pressure – the works. Treatment could have helped, but I knew she hadn't used his money in three years. Her illness was advanced. She was ready to join me, but she wasn't giving up yet. She wouldn't let her daughter, who’d loved him so completely, be discarded and humiliated. She’d wait until David felt the sting of regret. A week passed. Mom made no move. David called, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Your daughter's playing hardball, huh? Dragging you into this with her little guilt trip? Even if you die, I won't shed a tear. Tell Hannah to sign the papers!" Mom clutched my photo, her fingers digging into her palm. “David, I told you. My daughter is dead.” David scoffed. “Playing hide-and-seek? I’ll find her.” A bitter smile touched my lips. Find me? I wish he could. I just hoped he wouldn’t regret it. A weak, coughing voice came from the phone. “David, honey, any news about Hannah? Is she angry? Does she… want me to die?” David’s tone softened instantly. "Rest, Emily. Don't worry. I'll get that divorce...