Today is my husband's birthday. Today, I thank God that his mother gave birth to the man I called my husband, my friend, my love.
Unassuming, but charming. Loving and kind. Opinionated and passionate. He was all of those things and more. I look at the sky, as blue as his eyes, and think of him with gratitude for the years we spent together, the morning coffee, and the evening wine. The laughter and the music. For all those moments of our lives, there is a deep yearning. It will not return, I know, but what we shared lives on in my memories, in my heart, and in all the things he touched.
We speak of him, those who cannot and will not forget him. It's hard to imagine that he has been gone for two years, two birthdays. It seems like only yesterday that he was here, putting on his golf shoes, checking his bag to make sure he had everything, knowing that he would be back in a few hours. It seems like an eternity that I have held his hand, or felt his touch.
He isn't coming back today. He's golfing on a celestial cloud. Did he get a third hole in one?
I love you and I miss you, husband mine.
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