{"id":32496,"date":"2026-05-14T06:31:03","date_gmt":"2026-05-14T06:31:03","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496"},"modified":"2026-05-14T06:31:03","modified_gmt":"2026-05-14T06:31:03","slug":"at-my-wifes-funeral-i-stood-alone-in-the-rain-while-my-children-whispered-about-selling-my-house-before-the-mud-had-even-settled-on-her-grave-my-eldest-son-touched-my-shoulder-and-said","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496","title":{"rendered":"At my wife\u2019s funeral, I stood alone in the rain while my children whispered about selling my house before the mud had even settled on her grave. My eldest son touched my shoulder and said, \u201cDad, be reasonable. You\u2019re too old to live there alone.\u201d I looked at their dry eyes, their expensive umbrellas, their hungry smiles\u2014and I realized they hadn\u2019t come to bury their mother. They had come to bury me next."},"content":{"rendered":"

Part 1<\/strong><\/p>\n

At my wife\u2019s funeral, I stood alone in the rain while my children watched from beneath black umbrellas, dry-eyed and impatient. Before the coffin had even disappeared into the earth, my eldest son checked his watch.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad,\u201d Michael said, his voice low enough for strangers but sharp enough for me, \u201cwe need to talk about the house.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at the fresh grave. Eleanor had loved that house. She had painted the kitchen yellow herself, planted roses beneath every window, and kept a silver bell by the back door to call me in from the garden.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy wife is still in the ground,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

My daughter, Claire, sighed. \u201cDon\u2019t make this dramatic.\u201d<\/p>\n

Behind them, my younger son, Daniel, shifted from foot to foot. His wife, Vanessa, whispered something that made him smirk.<\/p>\n

I had raised them after double shifts, paid for college, covered divorces, business failures, rehab, and one very expensive \u201cspiritual retreat\u201d in Arizona. I had forgiven missed birthdays, unanswered calls, and the way they only remembered me when money got tight.<\/p>\n

But that morning, under that cold cemetery rain, I saw them clearly.<\/p>\n

They were not grieving their mother.<\/p>\n

They were calculating.<\/p>\n

Michael stepped closer. \u201cMom promised us the house would be split three ways.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cShe didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire\u2019s eyes hardened. \u201cYou\u2019re eighty-two, Dad. You don\u2019t need that place. It\u2019s too big. Too valuable. We\u2019ve already spoken to a realtor.\u201d<\/p>\n

I turned slowly. \u201cYou did what?\u201d<\/p>\n

Daniel finally spoke. \u201cIt\u2019s practical. You can move into assisted living.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I?\u201d<\/p>\n

Vanessa smiled with fake sweetness. \u201cIt\u2019ll be better for everyone.\u201d<\/p>\n

Everyone. Not me.<\/p>\n

A black car waited at the cemetery gate. Inside sat Mr. Harlan, my attorney of forty years. He had insisted on coming, but I told him to wait outside. I wanted to hear what my children would say when they thought I had no witness except the dead.<\/p>\n

Michael touched my shoulder like a man comforting a child. \u201cWe\u2019ll come by tomorrow morning. Have the papers ready.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at his hand until he removed it.<\/p>\n

Then I looked at each of them.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome at nine,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Claire blinked. \u201cSo you\u2019ll cooperate?\u201d<\/p>\n

I picked up Eleanor\u2019s white rose from the mud.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said softly. \u201cI\u2019ll be ready.\u201d<\/p>\n

Part 2<\/strong><\/p>\n

They arrived at 8:53 the next morning, because greedy people are always early for other people\u2019s things.<\/p>\n

Michael wore a navy suit and carried a leather folder. Claire brought coffee she did not offer me. Daniel brought Vanessa, who swept through my hallway like she already owned the place.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis smells old,\u201d she muttered.<\/p>\n

I was sitting in Eleanor\u2019s chair by the fireplace. Her knitting basket was still beside it. One unfinished blue scarf rested on top, the needles crossed like small swords.<\/p>\n

Michael opened his folder. \u201cWe drafted a transfer agreement. Nothing complicated.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at the papers. \u201cYou drafted legal documents without my consent.\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire laughed. \u201cDad, don\u2019t start. You never understood legal stuff.\u201d<\/p>\n

That was the first time I almost smiled.<\/p>\n

For thirty-six years, before retirement, I had been a forensic accountant. I had helped prosecutors untangle fraud schemes that men in better suits than Michael thought were invisible. I had testified in federal court. I had followed money through shell companies, forged signatures, fake charities, and family trusts.<\/p>\n

My children remembered me as the quiet father who fixed lawn sprinklers.<\/p>\n

That was their first mistake.<\/p>\n

Daniel leaned against the mantel. \u201cJust sign. We can list by Friday.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

The room went still.<\/p>\n

Vanessa scoffed. \u201cExcuse me?\u201d<\/p>\n

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

Michael\u2019s face flushed. \u201cYou\u2019re being selfish.\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire stepped forward. \u201cMom would be ashamed.\u201d<\/p>\n

That one landed. For a second, grief rose so hard in my throat I almost choked. Then I heard Eleanor\u2019s voice in my memory: Don\u2019t let them mistake kindness for surrender, Arthur.<\/p>\n

I placed my hand on the armrest. \u201cYour mother changed her will seven months ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

Michael\u2019s smile froze.<\/p>\n

Claire narrowed her eyes. \u201cChanged it how?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe left her personal belongings to the three of you. Jewelry, photographs, heirlooms.\u201d<\/p>\n

Daniel looked around. \u201cAnd the house?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe house was never hers to leave.\u201d<\/p>\n

Vanessa barked a laugh. \u201cThat\u2019s impossible.\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded toward the hallway camera above the front door. Then to the tiny black recorder on the bookshelf. Their eyes followed mine.<\/p>\n

Michael\u2019s mouth opened.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou recorded us?\u201d Claire snapped.<\/p>\n

\u201cIn my own home,\u201d I said. \u201cAfter receiving three emails from you pressuring your mother while she was sick.\u201d<\/p>\n

Daniel went pale. \u201cWhat emails?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe ones telling her I was confused. The ones suggesting I should be declared incompetent. The ones asking her to sign property documents while on morphine.\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire\u2019s coffee cup trembled.<\/p>\n

Vanessa recovered first. \u201cYou can\u2019t prove anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

The doorbell rang.<\/p>\n

I stood slowly.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cBut he can.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Harlan entered with two younger attorneys and a woman from Adult Protective Services. Behind them came Detective Ruiz, holding a slim folder.<\/p>\n

Michael whispered, \u201cDad, what the hell is this?\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at my children, all three of them suddenly smaller than they had been yesterday.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis,\u201d I said, \u201cis what happens when you target the wrong old man.\u201d<\/p>\n

Part 3<\/strong><\/p>\n

Detective Ruiz placed photographs on the coffee table.<\/p>\n

Bank withdrawals. Forged signatures. Copies of emails. A realtor agreement bearing my name, though I had never seen it. A medical form Claire had downloaded, apparently hoping to have me declared mentally unfit.<\/p>\n

Michael lunged for the papers. \u201cThis is private family business.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ruiz caught his wrist. \u201cFraud is not family business.\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire turned on Daniel. \u201cYou said Vanessa handled the paperwork!\u201d<\/p>\n

Vanessa stepped back. \u201cDon\u2019t drag me into this.\u201d<\/p>\n

Daniel stared at his wife. \u201cYou told me it was just preliminary.\u201d<\/p>\n

I watched them fracture in real time. Greed makes a beautiful glass house, but truth only needs one stone.<\/p>\n

Mr. Harlan opened his briefcase. \u201cArthur created the house trust twelve years ago. The property belongs to the Rose Bell Foundation, established by Arthur and Eleanor Whitaker.\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire frowned. \u201cFoundation?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor widowed seniors facing financial abuse,\u201d Harlan said.<\/p>\n

The silence that followed was almost holy.<\/p>\n

Michael\u2019s voice dropped. \u201cYou gave away our inheritance?\u201d<\/p>\n

I walked to the mantel and lifted Eleanor\u2019s silver bell. \u201cYour mother and I built that foundation after my sister lost her home to her own children. We swore no one would do that to us.\u201d<\/p>\n

Daniel\u2019s eyes filled, but whether from guilt or fear, I could not tell.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have money,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n

\u201cI have enough.\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire snapped, \u201cYou let us humiliate ourselves.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cYou insisted.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ruiz turned to Michael. \u201cWe\u2019ll need you to come with us regarding attempted property fraud and elder exploitation.\u201d<\/p>\n

Michael\u2019s face collapsed. \u201cDad. Please.\u201d<\/p>\n

That word. Dad. Suddenly useful again.<\/p>\n

I looked at him and remembered teaching him to ride a bike. Holding Claire through thunderstorms. Carrying Daniel asleep from the car. I loved those children once with my whole body.<\/p>\n

But love without boundaries becomes a weapon in the hands of the cruel.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou came to your mother\u2019s grave with a realtor,\u201d I said. \u201cSave your pleading for court.\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire slapped me.<\/p>\n

The sound cracked through the room.<\/p>\n

Nobody moved.<\/p>\n

Then Detective Ruiz said, \u201cThat was unwise.\u201d<\/p>\n

By noon, they were gone. Michael in custody. Claire facing charges for forged medical filings. Daniel and Vanessa under investigation for conspiracy and financial coercion. Their accounts were frozen pending review. Their realtor dropped them before sunset. By the end of the month, their names were in every local paper, not as grieving children, but as predators who tried to steal from their widowed father.<\/p>\n

Six months later, spring returned.<\/p>\n

I still lived in the yellow kitchen house, under a lifetime lease written into the trust. Eleanor\u2019s roses bloomed red beneath the windows. Every Thursday, the foundation hosted free legal clinics in the dining room where my children had once demanded my surrender.<\/p>\n

One morning, I placed Eleanor\u2019s finished blue scarf around my shoulders and rang her silver bell.<\/p>\n

Outside, three elderly widows laughed over coffee in the garden.<\/p>\n

For the first time since the funeral, the house did not feel empty.<\/p>\n

It felt protected.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Part 1 At my wife\u2019s funeral, I stood alone in the rain while my children watched from beneath black umbrellas, dry-eyed and impatient. Before the coffin had even disappeared into the earth, my eldest son checked his watch. \u201cDad,\u201d Michael said, his voice low enough for strangers but sharp enough for me, \u201cwe need to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":32498,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-32496","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-life-new"],"yoast_head":"\nAt my wife\u2019s funeral, I stood alone in the rain while my children whispered about selling my house before the mud had even settled on her grave. My eldest son touched my shoulder and said, \u201cDad, be reasonable. You\u2019re too old to live there alone.\u201d I looked at their dry eyes, their expensive umbrellas, their hungry smiles\u2014and I realized they hadn\u2019t come to bury their mother. They had come to bury me next. - True Stories<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"At my wife\u2019s funeral, I stood alone in the rain while my children whispered about selling my house before the mud had even settled on her grave. My eldest son touched my shoulder and said, \u201cDad, be reasonable. You\u2019re too old to live there alone.\u201d I looked at their dry eyes, their expensive umbrellas, their hungry smiles\u2014and I realized they hadn\u2019t come to bury their mother. They had come to bury me next. - True Stories\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Part 1 At my wife\u2019s funeral, I stood alone in the rain while my children watched from beneath black umbrellas, dry-eyed and impatient. Before the coffin had even disappeared into the earth, my eldest son checked his watch. \u201cDad,\u201d Michael said, his voice low enough for strangers but sharp enough for me, \u201cwe need to […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"True Stories\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2026-05-14T06:31:03+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"http:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Create_a_realistic_cinematic_vertical_202605141329.jpeg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"558\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"true love\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"true love\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"7 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496\",\"name\":\"At my wife\u2019s funeral, I stood alone in the rain while my children whispered about selling my house before the mud had even settled on her grave. My eldest son touched my shoulder and said, \u201cDad, be reasonable. You\u2019re too old to live there alone.\u201d I looked at their dry eyes, their expensive umbrellas, their hungry smiles\u2014and I realized they hadn\u2019t come to bury their mother. They had come to bury me next. - True Stories\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Create_a_realistic_cinematic_vertical_202605141329.jpeg\",\"datePublished\":\"2026-05-14T06:31:03+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/5c3397997033ec1244d0e345888afa8e\"},\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496#primaryimage\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Create_a_realistic_cinematic_vertical_202605141329.jpeg\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Create_a_realistic_cinematic_vertical_202605141329.jpeg\",\"width\":558,\"height\":1000},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"At my wife\u2019s funeral, I stood alone in the rain while my children whispered about selling my house before the mud had even settled on her grave. My eldest son touched my shoulder and said, \u201cDad, be reasonable. You\u2019re too old to live there alone.\u201d I looked at their dry eyes, their expensive umbrellas, their hungry smiles\u2014and I realized they hadn\u2019t come to bury their mother. They had come to bury me next.\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/\",\"name\":\"True Stories\",\"description\":\"\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":{\"@type\":\"PropertyValueSpecification\",\"valueRequired\":true,\"valueName\":\"search_term_string\"}}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/5c3397997033ec1244d0e345888afa8e\",\"name\":\"true love\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/7edec003db6c2d994c618a5c9257e4836d0823076211ef1f440ea5b2dfb07eb1?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/7edec003db6c2d994c618a5c9257e4836d0823076211ef1f440ea5b2dfb07eb1?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"caption\":\"true love\"},\"sameAs\":[\"http:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\"],\"url\":\"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=2\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"At my wife\u2019s funeral, I stood alone in the rain while my children whispered about selling my house before the mud had even settled on her grave. My eldest son touched my shoulder and said, \u201cDad, be reasonable. You\u2019re too old to live there alone.\u201d I looked at their dry eyes, their expensive umbrellas, their hungry smiles\u2014and I realized they hadn\u2019t come to bury their mother. They had come to bury me next. - True Stories","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"At my wife\u2019s funeral, I stood alone in the rain while my children whispered about selling my house before the mud had even settled on her grave. My eldest son touched my shoulder and said, \u201cDad, be reasonable. You\u2019re too old to live there alone.\u201d I looked at their dry eyes, their expensive umbrellas, their hungry smiles\u2014and I realized they hadn\u2019t come to bury their mother. They had come to bury me next. - True Stories","og_description":"Part 1 At my wife\u2019s funeral, I stood alone in the rain while my children watched from beneath black umbrellas, dry-eyed and impatient. Before the coffin had even disappeared into the earth, my eldest son checked his watch. \u201cDad,\u201d Michael said, his voice low enough for strangers but sharp enough for me, \u201cwe need to […]","og_url":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496","og_site_name":"True Stories","article_published_time":"2026-05-14T06:31:03+00:00","og_image":[{"width":558,"height":1000,"url":"http:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Create_a_realistic_cinematic_vertical_202605141329.jpeg","type":"image\/jpeg"}],"author":"true love","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"true love","Est. reading time":"7 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496","url":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496","name":"At my wife\u2019s funeral, I stood alone in the rain while my children whispered about selling my house before the mud had even settled on her grave. My eldest son touched my shoulder and said, \u201cDad, be reasonable. You\u2019re too old to live there alone.\u201d I looked at their dry eyes, their expensive umbrellas, their hungry smiles\u2014and I realized they hadn\u2019t come to bury their mother. They had come to bury me next. - True Stories","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Create_a_realistic_cinematic_vertical_202605141329.jpeg","datePublished":"2026-05-14T06:31:03+00:00","author":{"@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/5c3397997033ec1244d0e345888afa8e"},"breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Create_a_realistic_cinematic_vertical_202605141329.jpeg","contentUrl":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Create_a_realistic_cinematic_vertical_202605141329.jpeg","width":558,"height":1000},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=32496#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"At my wife\u2019s funeral, I stood alone in the rain while my children whispered about selling my house before the mud had even settled on her grave. My eldest son touched my shoulder and said, \u201cDad, be reasonable. You\u2019re too old to live there alone.\u201d I looked at their dry eyes, their expensive umbrellas, their hungry smiles\u2014and I realized they hadn\u2019t come to bury their mother. They had come to bury me next."}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website","url":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/","name":"True Stories","description":"","potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/5c3397997033ec1244d0e345888afa8e","name":"true love","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/7edec003db6c2d994c618a5c9257e4836d0823076211ef1f440ea5b2dfb07eb1?s=96&d=mm&r=g","contentUrl":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/7edec003db6c2d994c618a5c9257e4836d0823076211ef1f440ea5b2dfb07eb1?s=96&d=mm&r=g","caption":"true love"},"sameAs":["http:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org"],"url":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=2"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32496","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=32496"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32496\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":32499,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32496\/revisions\/32499"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/32498"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=32496"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=32496"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/true.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=32496"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}