If I could sing, I’d sing the happy birthday song — but he would have hated it. Ever since about his 30th Birthday– Kelly quit liking to have birthdays. He said it made him feel old. And, he didn’t like getting another year older and realizing he hadn’t yet done things he thought he should have, “by now” — I suppose it is a good thing he’s not here to endure being 50 — he won’t ever have to to blow out 50 candles in mortality — lucky. I have now officially outlived him — how weird is that. And I look at other people I know, people who you would think would have gone by now, and they are still here, and he’s not. Sometimes it makes me wonder. So, I’m not even sure how I feel; obviously I’m not asleep. I don’t know how or if to mark this day. Last year Jason took me out to dinner on this day. I thought I had a plan for today, but it fell apart, and now I am at loose ends, and I feel like crying. Will these tears ever end? It seems not. I’m almost through what I think of as my widow season — from November to June — from the anniversary of his death, Nov. 9th through the holidays, the anniversary of our engagement, his birthday, Valentines Day, our wedding anniversary, Mother’s Day, and then my birthday — and then I have a respite from all of those holidays and anniversaries days, from the middle of June until the beginning of November. Maybe I’m looking at it all wrong. Maybe. It’s been three years now, and I still miss him with such intensity, that it is hard to describe. He always sang that bit from the Garth Brooks song, “I’m much to young to feel this damn old.” — He was young, much to young to leave me. But it happened, and I’m here, left to carryon — So I guess that is what I have to do. Carry on — and make it through another day of remembering. Perhaps the memories will be filled with warmth this time. That would be nice. Perhaps more later — or not. S.