Diary of a Widower

Daily entries by a husband, who stayed behind with his two sons

‘Dear Boi. I love you because’

WEDNESDAY, December 23 – It only gets worse. Her presence is palpable in every nook and cranny, or rather, her visible and tangible absence.

In my toilet case I find a folded piece of paper:  it is yellowed and the ink has run.  It dates from the fall of 2005 and it was written on the stationary of the Hilton in Brighton, England, where, on a whim, we spent a weekend, the four of us.

Jenn had left it next to my toothbrush and accessories, and since then this precious note had accompanied me on all my many trips. ‘Dear Boi. I love you because you know when it is time to take a break. xxx  Jenn.’

Oh, Jenn.

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