It is my birthday, seven days since the funeral service for my husband, 14 days from when he died in my arms, as our little dog Chelsea lay between us.
I am here, Arthur, in our room, the dogs are with me, and my whole being aches for you. You promised me when you lay sick in that A & E bed, that you would be here for my birthday. Now I know your body could not hold out that long, but I am here, I am having my birthday with you.
I love you.
