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Post date: 02-Jul-2016 19:30:40
In all the holiday excitement I completely forgot that this is the anniversary of Stephen’s death. It’s 37 years since he threw himself off the top of the engineering tower. I only remembered when I found the pot plant that Stan and Sylvia had left for me on the kitchen table. (They know I don’t approve of cutting flowers down in their prime and putting them in jugs of water.) It’s rather bizarre the way they still seem to think I’m the one who needs support. He was their son, after all, while I was only his fiancée and I’ve had two husband’s since then, while they can never replace him. It’s strange the way things have panned out. They’re like grandparents to Lucy and the best friends anyone could have – which probably isn’t how it would have been if they’d been my in-laws. God moves in a mysterious way sometimes.