Today marks seven years since my wife died.
The initial gnawing to the bone grief has subsided but it comes back on the anniversary of her death.
I feel angry, even though nobody is to blame.
Angry that she died so young at just 30 years of age.
Angry that our 2 daughters, then aged 2 and almost 4, had their mother stolen from them.
Angry that she hasn't been able to watch her children grow.
Angry that we only had eight years together.
Angry that her parents lost their daughter.
Angry that her brother lost the sister that he adored.
Angry that this anger has no target except the universe.
Of course I will not show any of this to our daughters. We will place a wreath on their mum's grave. I will, as I always try to do, answer any questions they have, keeping their mum as part of the family letting them know how much she loved them.
Later on we will meet up with my in-laws and together we will celebrate the life of someone who was torn away from us.