When I noticed a barcode tattooed on my husband Daniel’s back, I thought it might be a sign of betrayal, but scanning it revealed a shocking truth. Daniel had been distant ever since I found out I was pregnant, always busy with work. One night, after a long trip, I saw the barcode and scanned it with my phone. The website that appeared read: “Call me ASAP. He has just months.”
The number led me to Dr. Evans, who gently told me that Daniel had stage four pancreatic cancer and had kept it a secret, not wanting to burden me, especially with our baby on the way. The barcode was a message from the doctor, who had lost her own husband to cancer and wanted me to have time to face the truth with Daniel.
I was overwhelmed with grief and anger, but I understood his desire to protect me. That weekend, we went on a small getaway, cherishing our time together. A few days later, we painted the nursery, and I could see how much he was slipping away. On his last day, he whispered, “Thank you… for making these days the best of my life.” Then, he passed away.
At his funeral, I placed my hand on my belly, feeling our baby’s kick, and promised Daniel, “I’ll make sure our baby knows you. I promise.” Despite the pain of his loss, I held onto the love and memories he left behind, knowing his spirit would live on in our child.
