I return after a weekend away to a home populated by two kitties, but no longer by you, my husband. The silence is deafening, until I listen for the little peeps of Happycat and Lilybug. They both have a lot to say about loss and grief. They miss you and Frank the Tank as much as I do. You would have been 64 on 1 September. The one thing I want most in this world I will never have again, and that is to hold you one more time, to kiss you and feel your soft auburn hair, to laugh with you, to hear you say “Hey, bebe” as I walk into your workshop. It was all worth it, my love. My heart wouldn’t ache so much right now if we didn’t love each other so much, then. And we did love one another, and I will always love and remember you. And for right now, that has to be enough.