We often think we know everything about our loved ones.

But sometimes, hidden chapters of their lives only come to light after they’re gone.

Uncovering hidden secrets after they’ve passed can lead to profound revelations and questions about how these discoveries might have altered relationships and perceptions if known earlier.

Here are three incredible stories where people uncovered astonishing secrets about their relatives only after they were gone.

Did it change their lives in any way?

Let’s find out. 1. I Found My Late Husband’s Secret Suitcase, the Contents inside Broke My Heart When I was 18, I made a decision that would affect the rest of my life:

I married sweet, funny Daniel, whom my wealthy father disapproved of.

“You marry that low-life, and you’ll get nothing from me, Margaret!” my father had screamed.

“You’ll see what love really is when you have to live in a one-bedroom rat-hole with roaches crawling up the walls!”

But I didn’t listen. I was sure I would never regret loving Daniel.

Ever.At first, it was romantic to go home to that tiny apartment (there were no rats and roaches — there was no space).

I found myself a job as a receptionist in a big hotel, and Daniel started working for the post office.

“Job security, love,” Daniel had explained when I urged him to find a higher-paying job. “I have to know there’s going to be a pension to keep us when we are old!” I understood Daniel’s obsession with security. Hadn’t he watched his mother live on the pittance social welfare awarded her after his father died in a work accident at a construction site?

He’d been an illegal, no insurance, no pension for his widow and five children. Daniel was determined the same thing wouldn’t happen to me or our children. Working for the post office, Daniel believed, would give us that assurance. But two modest salaries didn’t go far with two children to raise. Even though we were frugal, every cent Daniel and I earned, we spent.

There was precious little left for savings.Then our two children grew up, left home, and started their own lives — our son moved to Alaska, and our daughter to Brazil, and Daniel and I were right back where we had started. It was around this time that my father passed away. Apparently, time and my happiness hadn’t softened his heart because he left his entire, very considerable estate to his youngest son, who was untroubled by twinges of conscience. Daniel was devastated. “This is what loving me cost you, Margaret!” he said bitterly.

“The life you deserved!” “No!” I told him firmly. “I wouldn’t trade what we have for all the money in the world!” But Daniel grew silent and distant, and for the first time in thirty-eight years of marriage, I started wondering if he still loved me.

Then Daniel started taking on overtime at work, a lot of overtime. “It’s this new overnight delivery mail, it has to be sorted 24/7,” he explained. But I noticed that when Daniel came home at two or three in the morning, he smelled different. He smelled of lilies, and I had never liked lily-scented soap. It reminded me of my paternal grandmother, a woman I had never liked. Also, he didn’t make love to me anymore unless it was the weekend.

At first, I told myself it was my imagination, but things didn’t change. Two years later, Daniel still came home every night, still smelled of lilies, and worse of all, there was no extra money in our joint account. I tried to broach the subject with Daniel once, but he snapped at me. “Do I have to account for what I spend, too? It’s my money, I earned it!”

After that, I didn’t say another word and wept in silence when he came home every night and turned his back on me in the same bed where we had conceived our children.We never talked about our plans for our retirement anymore, and Daniel’s ‘overtime’ left us few opportunities to work through what was destroying our marriage. When the weekends came around, he locked himself in the garage fiddling with god-knew-what and only came out for meals. From considering myself the happiest woman in the world, I was sure I was the most miserable.

All my dreams had evaporated into thin air, and I even started doubting if Daniel had ever loved me. We had just celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary when Daniel had a heart attack. I knew what the prognosis was even before the doctor spoke. “Mrs. Hernandez,” he told me, “I think you should prepare yourself for the worst. Your husband’s heart is just plain worn out. The only option would be a heart transplant, and his age places him low on the list…””He’s sixty-nine,” I gasped. “He’s only sixty-nine, he promised he was going to retire…”

That night, I called our children, and they flew to New York to say their goodbyes, along with Anna, my only grandchild. Two weeks later, it was all over. Daniel was gone, and even though he had spoken lovingly to our children and grandchild about the past, he had only held my hand in silence.

“Margaret,” he’d whispered on his last day on earth. “I love you, only you, I always have…” Those were his last words and a meager comfort after so many years of doubts and unhappiness. Our son and daughter wept for their father, but they had their own lives to live, so they left soon after the funeral. It was Anna who stayed behind to help me come to terms with my empty house and my blasted life. The day after my children left, I got up and decided I was going to make a clean sweep of the past.

With Anna’s help, I packed every one of Daniel’s personal belongings into cardboard boxes for Goodwill.I was closing the last box when a whiff of lilies assaulted my senses. I found myself screaming hoarsely, kicking the box over, spilling all the carefully folded contents. Anna was there to hold me and soothe me, and somehow, the whole story poured out. “He’s been cheating on me for the last 12 years, coming to my bed every night smelling of another woman,” I sobbed. “And his last words to me were a lie!” The tears and confiding my pain helped, and Anna suggested we tackle Daniel’s garage, clean the last bits of my pain out.

The two of us walked into the garage and started sorting through the accumulated junk of a lifetime. Then, in one corner, Anna found an old suitcase with rusty locks. She was about to throw it out, but it felt quite heavy, so she decided to open it first. There was no key, but the use of an old spanner and a hammer soon had the suitcase open.

“Grandma…” Anna gasped. “Please come here…”I dropped the tin full of nails I’d been sorting through and came to my granddaughter’s side. The suitcase was open, and inside were neatly wrapped packs of $20 bills and an old journal. “Where did this come from?” I gasped. “This is a lot of money!” Anna opened the journal. “Grandma,” she said softly. “You need to read this…I think he started saving every penny he could when you got married…Oh! This is from 12 years ago! Listen: ‘Today I started working at the NYC sanitation department, the sewer cleaning night shift.

“‘It’s not an easy job, but it pays a lot better than my day job, and I have to make sure of Margaret’s future. Her father was right. I am a loser. I cost her everything, but I am determined to give at least a small part of it back. “‘I don’t want Margaret to know, so I told her I’m doing sorting of the overnight mail, and take a shower before coming home every night. I’m not bringing that stench into our home.’”I was weeping silently as Anna read out Daniel’s account of his double life.

“Look, Gran, he writes in what he is packing into the suitcase every month… There is a total of nearly $300,000!” I looked into that battered old suitcase, at the living proof of my husband’s unconditional love and his willingness to sacrifice anything for me. “Oh, Daniel,” I whispered. “And I wasted so much time in bitterness…” I believed my husband was cheating when he was working the most unpleasant of jobs. I love you, Daniel. I love you so much, and I regret doubting your love, I whispered and held the journal close to my heart.