And one moment in particular that keeps coming back to me over and over.
Roger's father died three and half years before I met Roger.
From a car accident ironically.
Six years before our wedding.
Six and half years before Roger was murdered by a stupid driver.
From everything anyone has ever told me, Roger's dad was an amazing guy.
I wish I could have met him.
I wish I could have known him.
Roger loved his dad.
He admired him.
He talked about him often.
And he missed him.
For Christmas before our wedding, I gave Roger cufflinks with a locket feature.
I took a picture of Roger's dad and put it inside of each.
Roger's dad may not have been able to be physically present at our wedding, but he at least would be by Roger's sides.
Roger did not react much when I gave him the cufflinks.
It seemed my gift was a dud.
I was a little disappointed in my gift giving ability.
On our wedding day, Roger wore his dad's watch.
It did not work.
But Roger wore it anyway.
He also wore my gift.
Roger asked our wedding photographer to take pictures of him wearing the watch and of the cufflinks.
So he did like the cufflinks.
He was showing them off even.
I knew Roger felt the missing part of his day.
But he did not mention it.
I could feel it.
I felt saddened Roger's father was not there.
The most important day of his life and his father was not there in a physical sense.
Then came the best man's toast.
A toast to the missing man.
Roger started to cry (as did most of the guests).
And there was nothing I could do but rub his leg.
I was trying to be the best wife I could.
Everyone raised their glass.
Roger raised his Heineken, his father's favorite drink.
Only the second time I ever saw him cry.
This moment runs through my head a lot lately.
Almost two years later and I cry when I think of his tears.
How he cried.