Dear Anne,
I know I wasn't the perfect husband. I remember asking you 'If you had your life again would you get married.?' And you said 'NO' I asked it a 2nd time a few years later. Same reply. Yet the last written message you wrote me on my birthdday before you passed was on my birthday card. ' You are my rock. xxxxxx' I cried over that. And can't bear to read it again. I don't know where this going. Being a little psychic I've had coins mysteriously appear in the house that symbolise that you are OK. Yet I was doing OK till a while ago the shit is once again hitting the fan. Does this grieving never end Anne? I don't know who you ever were. So introver Our sex life was magic. Yet you lacked everyday affection. No cuddles or kissing. You didn't like that did you?. Well I needed it. As a police officer who came home after dealing with stuff you had no comprehension off. You just didn't get it. If I phoned to say I'll be late home after a few beers with my mates I got a bollocking! So I stopped phoning. And when I did get home you sneered and said ' You reek of drink.' I just couldn't win. YET MY WHOLE LIFE I'VE LOVED YOU TO BITS. AND STILL DO 
