Memories of the past

Today is one of those days when I like to be busy, today twenty three years ago my husband died in a motor bike accident.  I had spoken to him only thirty minutes before his death, when he phoned to let me know he was on his way home.  We were a family of seven, my three sons from my first marriage and our two baby girls, the youngest one only eleven months old, the other a sweet little girl of two, who thought her daddy was the sun and moon.  This was my second marriage and he was step father to my three wonderful boys.  This man had taken on a lot of responsiblity when we married, and during our early years we faced some dificult times as we all settled into a life together.  I remember how excited he was when I became pregnant, he was sure this baby would be a girl and we were both so excited when she was born.  Another little girl followed only eighteen months later, and our family was complete.  I had heard people in the past talk of having a broken heart when they spoke of  losing a loved one, but until my husband died I didn't fully understand what this meant.  The pain, a deep ache in your chest  is what is experienced after someone you love dies and is akin to a broken heart.  All my future dreams and those of my children gone in one night.  We have, of course moved on, my children have grown, my sons are married, I have grandchildren and we are a happy loving family.  But there has always been someone missing from special family moments, my daughters debutante balls, their twenty first birthdays, my sons weddings and the birth of grandchildren.   I have not remarried, I have not been able to let someone into my heart again.  Today I spent the day with some friends and one of my sons, I shared a drink in memory of the past and will do so again tomorrow with the rest of the family and his friends.  Then we will go on with living our lives until this time again next year.