Today is our anniversary. On this day, sixty three years ago, I married you, Jessica Anne Hanaby.
Laying here, I can see the setting sun light up the clothes that you wore on our wedding day. You had a fancy french word for that outfit, though I can’t remember it any more.
Funny how time plays with my memories. I can’t remember that word, but I can remember that blouse and that day clear as a bell. Now, they are all that I have left of you. Those clothes and those memories. The rest are gone. Some to the church clothes drive. Some to the long years in between.
I still love you Jess. I miss you and it hurts me something terrible. The evening is the worst. That's when the house is quiet and I have time to think about you.
Every day, I still get up,I make my meals, and I keep the house clean. Not that I care anymore, but because you would have wanted me to carry on.
You are still… my beloved.