Friday August 2nd was a significant date. It would have marked the 14th year since we got married. And you would have insisted that the stars and sun had an extra sparkle to them just for us. You would insist that the grass was a little greener and angels sang an extra song in the morning mass just for us. You would make us go to that "Colombia" favorite of yours because, yes, the ground was a bit firmer for the drive and the menu was just right. You would make all the regular patrons "disappear" and, for a couple of hours, set the universe between us two. Your capacity to love was immense. It was a gift from God. Love came naturally to you. You lived to love, and it wore well on you. Anyhow, I would have spent the few days leading to August 2 pretending I did not remember while I left work early to track down the perfect gift. For some reasons you bought that routine year after year. How could I forget the best day of my life since I was born to Christ - the day you held my hands, and made a promise to me for better for worse, in sickness or health, for richer for poorer, till death did part us. How could I ever forget the day you looked me in the eyes and insisted my people would be yours, (and I, yours mine); that our God, we will serve together; that where I was, you would be. Anyhow, I remember how those pesky tears would round up the corners of your eyes each time I told you what you meant to me. I got you year after year, did I not? As for the gifts, I chuckle now to remember how you pretended to be excited when we both knew I obviously missed the mark. I soon learned to ask for gift receipts and I remember you were never shy about doing an exchange too - only that you waited a few days. You know, Tiny, I will hear your voice again one day. The Lord guarantees it.