My elderly neighbor died — after his funeral, I received a letter from him that said: “You must dig up the secret in my yard that I’ve been hiding from you for 40 years. You deserve to know the truth.”
I live a quiet, stable life with my husband and two children in a small suburb. Everyone here knows each other, and nothing dramatic has ever happened.
When we moved here, Mr. Whitmore was already living in the house next door. I remember him saying he had moved there about 30 years earlier.
He lived alone. He had no family, no relatives, no close friends. He never invited anyone over.
In fact, I never saw anyone visit him.
Mr. Whitmore was always polite, smiling, helping with the lawn, or carrying in heavy grocery bags whenever he noticed I needed a hand.
Every Christmas, he would leave $20 in our mailbox with a note: “For tasty candy for the kids.”
We weren’t close, but we had a good neighborly relationship.
A few days ago, he passed away.
I even helped organize the funeral. Not many people came.
Two days later, I found a sealed envelope in my mailbox.
My name was written on it.
Out of curiosity, I opened it right away and pulled out a handwritten letter.
It was from Mr. Whitmore.
“My dear, if you’re reading this, I’m no longer here. There is something I’ve been hiding for 40 years. In my yard, under the old apple tree, a secret is buried — one I’ve been protecting you from. But you have the right to know the truth. Don’t tell anyone about this.”
My hands went cold. How was that possible? I barely knew him.
At first, I brushed it off. But I couldn’t sleep all night.
My thoughts kept racing.
The next morning, I went into Mr. Whitmore’s yard with a shovel.
The ground under the apple tree was soft. I began digging until I hit something metal.
I pulled out a rusty old box.
My heart pounded.
I brushed the dirt off the box and slowly opened it.
I sat down right there on the ground because I almost fainted when I saw what was inside. IT FELT LIKE MY WHOLE LIFE FLASHED BEFORE MY EYES.
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