Today is the first day of the rest of my life. This is what my husband told me on our wedding day. That wonderful, beautiful day was the first day of the rest of my life too. God, how I miss him. I never expected life to be like this. I never expected to live this long...this way. Today I am seventy-six years old. This journal was a gift from my beloved Christopher on my 75th birthday last year. He joked and said I could tell this book all of my secrets now because his hearing was so poor. This is my first birthday as a widow, and this is my first birthday alone. My husband passed away last month at the age of seventy-nine. I have no family anymore. He was my family.
             I remember as a child, I would celebrate my birthdays with my parents and brother. At my sixth birthday party, shortly before Daddy died, I remember the dollhouse that he made for me. It was so beautiful. He used to call me his "little princess" and said the dollhouse was my castle. That is my fondest memory of my father. After Daddy passed on, I remember how upset my mother was, her eyes so sad...so dull. They simply stopped shining. I couldn't understand then what she was feeling, but I understand now. Mother did eventually re-marry. She was so young though, and I am not. I feel so empty, and it hurts to realize that this is the first day of the rest of my life.
             Today I cleaned out Christopher's closet, and all of his clothes still smelled of him. I touched his favorite shirt and longed to have his body fill its vacancy. When I closed my eyes and held his clothes near, it felt as if I was touching him. In my mind I can still hear his voice; it is clear as a bell. I hear his answers to my questions, concerns, and complaints. I still hear him say to me, "Now Angel (that was his nickname for me) don't let your pretty self get worked up about all this nonsense. Be strong for me now. You're my fight...