You died 7:30, two years ago, tonight on our anniversary. And the sky shifted from day to night so many times, half the time I didn't even blink in my sorrow. Every year, on this day, I will always be paralysed, and shocked, and angry that your murderer may never be found, and tomorrow, I will pick myself up. This is the ritual of our forever. This is our for better and for worse. It might get less painful every year. but this day will happen every year for the rest of my life. The rest of my days are luminous, filled with new love and the shimmer of our memory. Be always the shimmer of my life. Be the shimmer on the ocean. The shimmer on my wedding gown. Because love is unconditional. And I know more about that now. Someday, I hope your killer will be brought to justice. Someday, I hope all diseases and dis-eases disappear from the world. Hope keeps us alive. And metaphors, of course. Metaphors. Like the one that says you are an angel, or reincarnated, or floating about hungry, in each state still alive somehow, still part of this world's consciousness, and mine. So be shimmer, my personal metaphor for you. Be the distant light we recreate in the finest silver dust, and diamonds, the diamond on my ring. Be there in the morning light compressed in the peat dark for millions of years till it was chosen for me. Be shimmer. Be the little bit of my soul. I will never forget you.