He loved to celebrate my birthday but hated to celebrate his. He said it was just another day. His family didn’t make a big deal out of birthdays. He only had 62 of them. I got to celebrate seven with him. I was his last. His last love. His last best friend. His last partner in crime. His last birthday buddy. I am not sad. I smile when I feel the rich sweetness of his memory wash over me. But…I miss him like crazy.

Happy Birthday, handsome man.