Sunny,

Happy Belated Anniversary sweetheart!  Instead of being our 23rd year together, it's my third one without you.  Yes, it still sucks!

First, I must apologize for my delay in posting to this, your remembrance page.  Something happened to my computer to where I could not log onto it.  I tried a number of different things and eventually, after some time, was able to get back online.

I still wish I could avoid the month of August, but that's not to be.  The week leading up to our anniversary was painful.  I just wanted to be left alone to my work, yet for some reason, people felt the need to surround and annoy me with their helpful gestures.  I also didn't have any evening activities to keep me exceedingly busy throughout the week, so I believe that just gave me more time to dwell - on the good times we shared and on the pain of missing you, my dear.

During the week, one of my coworkers asked if he could help me.  I told him 'no.'  I think he eventually got the hint that I just wanted to be left alone.  Sadly, I thought to myself, "Yeah, you can help.  Tell me how I can wipe out the last 24 years of my life?"  Then I realized I don't want to let go of any of those years.

I don't recall doing anything special on our anniversary day this year.  I didn't bother with the lawn (it may have been wet from an earlier rain), so had a lie in, though not very restful, as my sleep has been of late.  I managed to get myself together and attend my meeting that morning.  The group was proud of me for making it once they discovered it was my anniversary day.  After the meeting, I went home, ate lunch, and slept the afternoon away.

I could not log onto my computer, so continued cleaning out a couple of places in the house in preparation for work that was planned for the upcoming week.  I also had a lovely long talk with my sister on the phone.

Other than the conversation with my sister, it was just another day, as most tend to be.  Another day in paradise, as some would say.

I am grateful to family and friends who have been praying for me, particularly on these memorable days.  I still miss you and love you so very much!

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

Remember how you would sometimes accompany on my business travels.  I would spend the day at work, then either pick you up or meet you back at the hotel where we ate and you told me all about your wonderful adventure(s).

On one of the trips we made to Portland Maine, you spent the day at the Portland museum.  You told me how interesting it was and I certainly wanted to visit it with you someday at some future time.

On another trip, we stayed in Providence Rhode Island.  I dropped you off at a mall early in the morning and picked you up from there after work that day.  You had walked throughout the mall and caught a taxi to some local tourist attraction, but I can't remember much about it at this time.

I do remember our trip to Long Island.  You walked over to the nearby aviation museum and told me that you actually enjoyed it.  I believe you thought that I would have enjoyed it even more.  How I wanted us to visit that museum together later.

Although we never visited these places together, nor have I been to any myself, I certainly enjoyed having you with me on these business trips.  It was so great spending the evening with you and hearing all about your wonderful adventure(s).

Whether for business or for vacation, I miss my traveling companion.

Love,
Coy

Sunny,

I would be shocked if you weren't happy with the results of my attempt at donating some of your cookbooks today.  I'll admit, though I've been flipping through the pages of each cookbook to remove any loose paper and setting them aside for future donation, I've been procrastinating actually taking them as a donation to the library.  I believe the main reason for this is that I'm typically so worn out when I get home Saturday afternoon that I just don't feel like loading up the car and driving to the library.

This afternoon was different.  I had cancelled telly service a few days ago and was tasked with returning their equipment within a certain time period.  I currently don't do well with deadlines, so I figured I would handle it this weekend before I forgot about it.  When I looked at the locations where I could take the equipment to have it returned, the nearest one was on the way to the library where I previously went to donate some of your cookbooks.  Thank God, I thought, for this doesn't typically occur.

When I got home, I filled a couple of boxes with approximately 30 cookbooks.  I then loaded these boxes in the car with a couple of other boxes that I had packed weeks ago with approximately 60 'exercise' type magazines.  After loading the telly equipment, I was off to the delivery store.

I dropped of the equipment and they gave me some document and let me know that that document was the only copy and that I should not lose it for 6 months to a year.  "Oh, great!" I thought to myself then told the individual that I don't know how I was going to handle this great responsibility.  I'm thinking I should put it in the freezer.  I may not be able to find it if need be, but it certainly won't be lost.  In reality, I'm going to take a photo of it, then probably misplace the sheet of paper.

I then went to the library where I was told that they have stopped accepting donations for a while and don't know when they will accept them again.  She was happy to give me the address of another library that was currently accepting donations.  It happened to be across town on the far southwest end and I had only approximately five minutes to get there before they closed.  It wasn't going to happen today.  Instead, I drove home and unloaded the boxes of cookbooks and magazines from the car.

I know you were really fond of your cookbooks and probably aren't happy with me donating them.  They have just been collecting dust with you gone.  I have put some aside (only a few) that I'm not ready to depart with and/or that I may possibly use in the future (if you can even believe that).  I have also put some aside temporarily as a reminder of future posts I intend on writing.

I can still visualize you sitting in a bookstore with a stack of cookbooks next to you intently combing through the pages of each.  I wonder what you were thinking as you perused each.  How I miss you, my love, and your wonderful cooking.

Love,
Coy