Holding On, Letting go

The running marriage joke is men never remember wedding anniversaries.

In our case, I was the one who’d remember at the last minute.

In his techie, geeky way, Den configured the date we were married, September 17, 1983, in some base language or mathematical equation he used daily… for something.

He’s not here to remind me anymore… which is why I’ll never forget it… or stop counting.

Today would have been our 37th anniversary, but instead, it’s my second without him.

The photo is from the last anniversary we “celebrated” – our 34th, with a surprise dinner from our three children. We should have known something was up as David, Drew, and Lindsey were rarely in Tucson at the same time.