One year on, and any thought that is gets easier can be instantly dismissed. My eyes still fill with tears even looking at your picture which sits on my dining table. Your grave has settled and is now turfed over. The strong winds have blown over flower vases and none can stay upright. Delroy, I think it is, still leaves a single rose, and the long-lasting flowers still have vibrant colours but those I planted are now hidden by the turf. Soon, I hope, your sisters will put up the permanent stone to replace the wooden cross. It was a vile day yesterday but today the sun is shining. I just wish we could go for a short walk to your favourite spot by the river where you used to take your mother who Sonia tells me is doing well.