Today would have been my 42nd wedding anniversary. I've now had as many anniversaries without him as I had with him. It used to be our day; now it is just mine.
I always think of him on this day; of our beautiful wedding in a pretty Cambridge college chapel, the flower arrangement that collapsed just before the service, the sweet peas worn by all the men and in my bouquet, my then fifteen-year-old brother disappearing and finding a funfair, where he won a coconut.
Everyone else has moved on, more or less, and I am the only one who is remembering today. And that is how it should be.
But I shall always love him, and be grateful for the too-short time we had together. Always.