The final chess move arrived after his funeral

Dear Delyara, My husband and his brother played the same chess game by mail for almost thirty years. They lived in different countries, and each move arrived on a postcard with a few lines about family, weather, or politics. Sometimes six months passed between moves. My husband died in November. Today, a postcard arrived from Stockholm. His brother had not yet heard. On the front was a photograph of snow-covered boats. On the back, beneath a message about his granddaughter, he had written, “Knight to f6. Your move.” I placed the postcard beside the wooden chessboard in my husband’s study. The pieces were still arranged exactly as he left them. I do not know enough about chess to understand the game, but I found the black knight and moved it to the square indicated. Then I sat in my husband’s chair and tried to decide what to write back. “He died” looked too small. “The game is over” felt unnecessarily cruel. In the end, I called my brother-in-law. When he answered, he began laughing and asked whether his brother was finally ready to surrender. I could not speak. He understood from my silence and made a sound I had never heard from another human being. The chessboard remains open tonight. One man is waiting for a move from someone buried four months ago, and I am the only person standing between the unfinished game and the truth.