{"id":2335,"date":"2026-09-19T03:36:19","date_gmt":"2026-09-19T03:36:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/?p=2335"},"modified":"2026-09-19T03:36:19","modified_gmt":"2026-09-19T03:36:19","slug":"i-married-a-homeless-man-who-had-one-month-left-to-live-but-the-letter-i-received-after-his-funeral-made-the-bl00d-drain-from-my-face-2327-7-zcui9","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/?p=2335","title":{"rendered":"I Married a Homeless Man Who Had One Month Left to Live \u2013 But the Letter I Received After His Funeral Made the Bl00d Drain from My Face"},"content":{"rendered":"

The homeless man I married always drank his coffee black outside my subway station.<\/strong><\/h1>\n

Six days after his funeral, a letter arrived in his shaky handwriting.<\/p>\n

The first sentence was an apology I didn\u2019t understand.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

By the end of the page, I was on my way back to the courthouse where we had gotten married.<\/p>\n

There, a clerk opened an old record book filled with Larry\u2019s name and asked me a question I never expected.<\/p>\n

Which Larry had I married?<\/p>\n

\u201cSarah, I need to apologize before I thank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I read the opening line twice.<\/p>\n

Larry\u2019s letter had arrived less than a week after his funeral, sealed inside a thick white envelope.<\/p>\n

The handwriting was unmistakable.<\/p>\n

Uneven.<\/p>\n

Shaky.<\/p>\n

The same handwriting I had watched him use while completing forms at hospice.<\/p>\n

The postmark was dated one day before he died.<\/p>\n

When I first saw the envelope, I smiled.<\/p>\n

I assumed Larry had written me a goodbye.<\/p>\n

That would have been like him.<\/p>\n

The man couldn\u2019t accept a cup of coffee without thanking me three times.<\/p>\n

Then I reached the next sentence.<\/p>\n

\u201cNobody was going to bury me as a John Doe.\u201d<\/p>\n

My smile vanished.<\/p>\n

I sat down.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

Less than a month earlier, Larry had been sitting outside my usual subway station with a piece of cardboard resting across his knees.<\/p>\n

Written across it in large black letters were the words:<\/p>\n

MARRY ME. I HAVE ONE MONTH LEFT TO LIVE.<\/p>\n

I had known Larry for nearly two years.<\/p>\n

Every weekday morning, I stopped at the coffee kiosk beside the station and bought two cups.<\/p>\n

Mine had cream.<\/p>\n

His was always black.<\/p>\n

Larry never begged me for money.<\/p>\n

Some mornings we talked about the weather.<\/p>\n

Other mornings he complained about the pigeons.<\/p>\n

Once, he looked down at my office heels and told me they looked like they had been designed by \u201csomeone who hated human feet.\u201d<\/p>\n

Usually, I stayed for five minutes before rushing to work.<\/p>\n

That Tuesday morning was different.<\/p>\n

Larry looked terrible.<\/p>\n

His skin had a yellow tint, and his hands shook when I passed him his coffee.<\/p>\n

I pointed at the cardboard sign.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is this?\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked down at it.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe clinic says I probably have about a month.\u201d<\/p>\n

For a moment, the noise of traffic and commuters around us seemed to disappear.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLiver failure.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sat beside him on the freezing pavement.<\/p>\n

\u201cLarry, I\u2019m so sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t make that face.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat face?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe face people make when they\u2019re already standing at your funeral.\u201d<\/p>\n

Even then, he managed to make me laugh.<\/p>\n

But I kept staring at the sign.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy marriage?\u201d<\/p>\n

Larry looked at his coffee.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want to die belonging to nobody.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t belong to nobody.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a nice thing to say, Sarah.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked toward the street.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut it\u2019s different when there\u2019s paperwork.\u201d<\/p>\n

He explained that without legal family, strangers would eventually deal with his remains.<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t want that.<\/p>\n

\u201cI just want one person who can say, \u2018He\u2019s mine. I\u2019ll take care of him.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

I was single.<\/p>\n

Larry was dying.<\/p>\n

And I had always been better at solving problems than walking away from them.<\/p>\n

Two days later, we went to the courthouse.<\/p>\n

Larry wore a clean blue shirt somebody at the shelter had given him.<\/p>\n

I wore my navy work dress.<\/p>\n

When the clerk asked whether we had rings, Larry checked his empty pockets dramatically.<\/p>\n

\u201cKnew I forgot something.\u201d<\/p>\n

I laughed.<\/p>\n

Eleven minutes later, I became his wife.<\/p>\n

Exactly three weeks after that, I sat beside his bed in a state hospice facility and held his hand while his breathing slowly stopped.<\/p>\n

And now his letter was telling me that the reason I had married him wasn\u2019t entirely true.<\/p>\n

I forced myself to keep reading.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe liver failure was real. The month was real. What I lied about was why I asked you to marry me.\u201d<\/p>\n

I lowered the letter.<\/p>\n

Then immediately picked it up again.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy arrangements were already taken care of. Hospice or the county would have handled the paperwork. I wasn\u2019t going to disappear without a name.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stood so quickly my chair scraped across the floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you do, Larry?\u201d<\/p>\n

There was nowhere for my anger to go.<\/p>\n

He was dead.<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t call him.<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t demand an explanation.<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t even force him to sit across from me and watch the expression on my face.<\/p>\n

I kept reading.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf I gave you a problem you could solve, I knew you would solve it.\u201d<\/p>\n

That sentence hurt the most.<\/p>\n

Because it was true.<\/p>\n

For two years, I had constantly offered Larry things.<\/strong><\/h1>\n

Coffee.<\/p>\n

Food.<\/p>\n

Warm socks.<\/p>\n

Shelter phone numbers.<\/p>\n

Once, during a brutal cold spell, I spent half my lunch break calling shelters until I found an available bed.<\/p>\n

Larry always thanked me.<\/p>\n

But it had never occurred to me that during those two years, he had also learned something about me.<\/p>\n

He had learned exactly how to ask me for help.<\/p>\n

Near the bottom of the page, he had written:<\/p>\n

\u201cBefore you decide what kind of jerk I was, go back to the courthouse where we got married. Ask for Margaret. Tell her you\u2019re my wife.\u201d<\/p>\n

For a few minutes, I seriously considered throwing the letter away.<\/p>\n

Instead, an hour later, I was standing inside the courthouse lobby.<\/p>\n

Couples filled the plastic chairs.<\/p>\n

A woman in a white jumpsuit adjusted her lipstick while her fianc\u00e9 held a bouquet.<\/p>\n

A toddler crawled beneath a row of seats while his father tried to catch him.<\/p>\n

Three weeks earlier, Larry and I had sat in those same chairs.<\/p>\n

I remembered him rubbing his palms against his trousers again and again.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re shaking,\u201d I had told him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m dying. I think I\u2019m allowed to shake.\u201d<\/p>\n

At the time, I accepted that explanation.<\/p>\n

Now I wondered how many things I had accepted simply because asking another question had seemed unnecessary.<\/p>\n

At the records counter, someone pointed me toward an older woman wearing red glasses.<\/p>\n

\u201cMargaret?\u201d<\/p>\n

She looked up.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy name is Sarah.\u201d<\/p>\n

I hesitated.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Larry\u2019s wife.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her hands froze above the keyboard.<\/p>\n

\u201cLarry?\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded.<\/p>\n

Her chair rolled backward.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, sweetheart.\u201d<\/p>\n

Before I understood what was happening, she walked around the counter and hugged me.<\/p>\n

I stood stiffly in her arms.<\/p>\n

When she stepped back, her eyes were wet.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen did he pass?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA week ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

She looked away for a moment.<\/p>\n

\u201cI knew he was sick. I didn\u2019t know it was that close.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou knew Larry?\u201d<\/p>\n

Margaret frowned slightly.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course I did.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n

She glanced around the courthouse.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe worked here.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor twenty-eight years.\u201d<\/p>\n

My mouth fell open.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen how did he end up homeless?\u201d<\/p>\n

Margaret\u2019s expression softened.<\/p>\n

\u201cHis health started failing after retirement. Medical expenses ate through his savings. Then he lost his apartment.\u201d<\/p>\n

She shook her head.<\/p>\n

\u201cLarry was too proud to call any of us.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did he do here?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMostly marriage licenses.\u201d<\/p>\n

She removed her glasses.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe never told you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

A faint smile touched her face.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat sounds like Larry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

She paused.<\/p>\n

Then she stood.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Margaret led me down a hallway and into a small civil ceremony room.<\/p>\n

Against the wall stood a wooden wedding arch.<\/p>\n

I recognized it immediately.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is where Larry and I got married.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

I turned toward her.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou were here?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

She walked toward a cabinet.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut Larry was here the afternoon before.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n

Margaret unlocked the bottom drawer.<\/p>\n

\u201cI asked him the same thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

She pulled out a thick binder and placed it on a table.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe sat in that chair for almost an hour.\u201d<\/p>\n

She pointed toward a seat beside the arch.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did he want?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing.\u201d<\/p>\n

Margaret smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe said he was nervous.\u201d<\/p>\n

I almost laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cA man who worked around weddings for twenty-eight years was nervous about getting married?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s exactly what I said.\u201d<\/p>\n

She rested her hand on the binder.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe stared at that arch and told me, \u2018Tomorrow, I\u2019m standing on the other side of the desk.\u2019\u201d<\/strong><\/h1>\n

Suddenly, I remembered Larry\u2019s shaking hands on our wedding day.<\/p>\n

I had blamed the illness.<\/p>\n

Maybe I had been watching something else entirely.<\/p>\n

Margaret opened the binder.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook.\u201d<\/p>\n

Inside was an old marriage record.<\/p>\n

Two names I didn\u2019t recognize appeared at the top.<\/p>\n

Near the bottom was a familiar signature.<\/p>\n

Larry.<\/p>\n

Next to his name was one word.<\/p>\n

Witness.<\/p>\n

Margaret turned the page.<\/p>\n

Another couple.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Larry.<\/p>\n

Witness.<\/p>\n

Another page.<\/p>\n

Different couple.<\/p>\n

Different year.<\/p>\n

Same signature.<\/p>\n

Again.<\/p>\n

Larry.<\/p>\n

Witness.<\/p>\n

I looked at Margaret.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSometimes couples came in without anyone with them,\u201d she explained. \u201cLarry would leave his desk and sign as their witness.\u201d<\/p>\n

She turned another page.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe hated the idea of someone getting married with nobody standing beside them.\u201d<\/p>\n

I ran my finger over one of his old signatures.<\/p>\n

It was strange seeing Larry\u2019s handwriting from decades before I knew him.<\/p>\n

The same narrow L.<\/p>\n

The same crooked y.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow many times did he do this?\u201d<\/p>\n

Margaret shrugged.<\/p>\n

\u201cHundreds, probably.\u201d<\/p>\n

She smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe used to joke that he had attended more weddings than anyone in the courthouse but never had an anniversary to remember.\u201d<\/p>\n

A laugh escaped me.<\/p>\n

Then another question occurred to me.<\/p>\n

\u201cWas Larry ever married before?\u201d<\/p>\n

Margaret slowly closed the binder.<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n

\u201cMargaret?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOnce.\u201d<\/p>\n

My stomach tightened.<\/p>\n

\u201cTo whom?\u201d<\/p>\n

She looked directly at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sat down.<\/p>\n

For twenty-eight years, Larry had watched strangers walk into that building as separate people and walk out legally connected.<\/p>\n

Whenever someone had no friend or family member beside them, Larry stepped forward.<\/p>\n

His name appeared again and again in those records.<\/p>\n

But always beside the same word.<\/p>\n

Witness.<\/p>\n

Never husband.<\/p>\n

Never spouse.<\/p>\n

Not until me.<\/p>\n

Margaret opened another drawer.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s something else.\u201d<\/p>\n

She pulled out a clear plastic sleeve.<\/p>\n

\u201cLarry asked me to keep this after your marriage was recorded, in case you ever came looking for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Inside was a copy of our marriage certificate.<\/p>\n

My name was there.<\/p>\n

So was Larry\u2019s.<\/p>\n

And beside his name was the word:<\/p>\n

SPOUSE.<\/p>\n

I remembered how carefully he had folded his copy after our ceremony.<\/p>\n

How he had asked the clerk twice where he needed to sign.<\/p>\n

I had teased him about it.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re acting like this is an actual wedding.\u201d<\/p>\n

For a moment, Larry had gone quiet.<\/p>\n

Then he smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cFirst marriage. Let me be nervous.\u201d<\/p>\n

I laughed then.<\/p>\n

Sitting in that courthouse, I couldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

Margaret took the chair beside me.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid Larry tell you why he wanted to marry you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe gave me a reason.\u201d<\/p>\n

I explained the letter.<\/p>\n

The story about burial arrangements.<\/p>\n

His confession that he had made the situation sound more desperate because he knew I would help if there was a problem to solve.<\/p>\n

Margaret listened without interrupting.<\/p>\n

When I finished, she didn\u2019t defend him.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat wasn\u2019t fair to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe knew you would say yes to a problem,\u201d she continued. \u201cLarry was always much better at asking someone for practical help than asking someone to choose him.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked down at his signature.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat was I actually saying yes to?\u201d<\/p>\n

Margaret glanced at our marriage certificate.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat isn\u2019t my story to tell.\u201d<\/p>\n

For a second, I wanted to demand an answer.<\/p>\n

Then I remembered that the rest of Larry\u2019s letter was still inside my purse.<\/p>\n

He had specifically told me to visit the courthouse first.<\/p>\n

He wanted me to see those records.<\/p>\n

The hundreds of witness signatures.<\/p>\n

Our marriage certificate.<\/p>\n

The word spouse.<\/p>\n

I left the courthouse and took the subway home.<\/p>\n

But when the train reached Larry\u2019s old station, I stepped off.<\/p>\n

The woman at the coffee kiosk recognized me immediately.<\/p>\n

\u201cTwo?\u201d<\/p>\n

For a second, I nearly said no.<\/p>\n

Then I looked toward Larry\u2019s empty place beside the station entrance.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n

She handed me my coffee with cream.<\/p>\n

And Larry\u2019s black coffee.<\/p>\n

I carried both cups outside and sat in his usual spot.<\/p>\n

In two years, I had never stayed there long enough to finish an entire cup.<\/p>\n

I placed Larry\u2019s coffee beside me.<\/p>\n

Then I unfolded the next page of his letter.<\/p>\n

At the top, he had written:<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t need a wife to make my life matter, Sarah.\u201d<\/p>\n

Underneath that was another sentence.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I wanted to know, just once, what it felt like to have somebody choose that word with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stopped reading.<\/p>\n

Steam rose from the black coffee beside me into the cold air.<\/p>\n

Then I continued.<\/p>\n

\u201cI knew that if I had told you the truth, you might still have said yes.\u201d<\/p>\n

My eyes filled with tears.<\/p>\n

I whispered, \u201cThen why didn\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Larry\u2019s answer was written directly beneath it.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause then I would have had to listen while you decided whether loneliness was a good enough reason.\u201d<\/p>\n

Suddenly, two years of mornings with Larry looked different.<\/p>\n

The next line read:<\/p>\n

\u201cI made it easier for you by turning loneliness into paperwork. I knew you would understand paperwork. You had the right to know the truth. I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at his words.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou should have told me.\u201d<\/p>\n

A subway train rumbled beneath the pavement.<\/p>\n

The letter continued.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou were always trying to fix things for me. I liked that about you, even when you drove me crazy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Despite myself, I smiled.<\/p>\n

During our three weeks of marriage, I had bought Larry warm socks, toiletries, a phone charger, and a new blanket.<\/p>\n

Probably enough supplies to last six months.<\/p>\n

Every hospice visit went exactly the same way.<\/p>\n

I would enter carrying something.<\/p>\n

Larry would say, \u201cSit down, Sarah.\u201d<\/p>\n

And I would answer, \u201cIn a minute.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was always another nurse to find.<\/p>\n

Another form to complete.<\/p>\n

Another problem to solve.<\/p>\n

Then I reached the next sentence.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t need better socks nearly as much as you thought I did.\u201d<\/strong><\/h1>\n

I laughed through my tears.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re welcome, Larry.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then I read the line beneath it.<\/p>\n

\u201cI needed you to sit down.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at the empty place beside me.<\/p>\n

Our final Tuesday together came rushing back.<\/p>\n

I had brought his usual black coffee.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou staying?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cFive minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBig spender.\u201d<\/p>\n

I ended up staying twelve.<\/p>\n

Maybe those twelve minutes had been worth more to him than anything I had brought through the hospice doors.<\/p>\n

The final paragraph began:<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t turn me into another person you failed to save.\u201d<\/p>\n

My fingers stopped moving.<\/p>\n

Because since Larry\u2019s funeral, that was exactly what I had been doing.<\/p>\n

If I had noticed sooner.<\/p>\n

If I had found a better doctor.<\/p>\n

If I had found permanent housing.<\/p>\n

If I had done more.<\/p>\n

Then I read the next line.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou were not my failed rescue. You were my wife for three weeks. I liked it.\u201d<\/p>\n

A laugh escaped me.<\/p>\n

\u201cIdiot.\u201d<\/p>\n

I folded the letter around our marriage certificate.<\/p>\n

For decades, Larry\u2019s name had appeared beside one word.<\/p>\n

Witness.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

For three weeks, it appeared beside another.<\/p>\n

Spouse.<\/p>\n

A shadow fell across the pavement.<\/p>\n

\u201cExcuse me. Is anyone sitting here?\u201d<\/p>\n

A man carrying a worn backpack pointed toward the empty space beside me.<\/p>\n

Instinctively, my hand moved toward my purse.<\/p>\n

Then I stopped.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

He sat down.<\/p>\n

My first impulse was to ask whether he wanted coffee.<\/p>\n

Then I remembered one of Larry\u2019s final instructions.<\/p>\n

\u201cNext time you start trying to fix somebody\u2019s life, ask what they actually want first.\u201d<\/p>\n

So I said nothing.<\/p>\n

For a while, the two of us simply watched commuters hurry toward the station.<\/p>\n

Then I extended my hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Sarah.\u201d<\/p>\n

The man looked surprised before shaking it.<\/p>\n

\u201cJeremy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNice to meet you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I picked up the second cup and took a sip.<\/p>\n

Black.<\/p>\n

I immediately made a face.<\/p>\n

Jeremy glanced over.<\/p>\n

\u201cBad?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked toward the empty space where Larry used to sit.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust not mine.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stood and walked back toward the kiosk.<\/p>\n

The woman behind the counter saw me approaching.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnother black?\u201d<\/p>\n

I shook my head.<\/p>\n

\u201cActually, could you put some cream in this one?\u201d<\/p>\n

When I returned to the bench, Larry\u2019s letter and our marriage certificate rested beside me.<\/p>\n

For once, I wasn\u2019t rushing to work.<\/p>\n

I wasn\u2019t making phone calls.<\/p>\n

I wasn\u2019t filling out forms.<\/p>\n

I wasn\u2019t trying to rescue anyone.<\/p>\n

I simply sat there.<\/p>\n

And for the first time, the coffee in my hands tasted like it belonged to me.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The homeless man I married always drank his coffee black outside my subway station. Six days after his funeral, a letter arrived…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":118,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2335","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2335","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2335"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2335\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/118"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2335"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2335"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newsamazingday.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2335"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}