“HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, SWEETHEART.” I heard the words whispered in my ear in that moment between wakefulness and sleep. I’d gone to bed knowing what the morning would bring; a fresh wave of grief. Today would have been our fifth wedding anniversary.

A lump formed in my throat followed by a steady stream of silent tears that saturated my pillow. I rolled onto my side and pulled my rings from my bedside drawer, slipping them over my finger then hugging my hands against my chest, crying some more. I stayed that way until I could breathe again. And even then, I think I only stopped crying because the sun came up and I had responsibilities. I had a son who needed me, a son who depended on me. During the deepest moments of my grief, he was always the light that was shining, guiding me through that dark so I could again feel the sun on my face. And yet, I kept sinking.

Trudging into the bathroom, I splashed some cold water on my face before rubbing BB cream all over it to cover the redness before I faced the day. Ty was a perceptive boy, and he worried when I got sad. And I got sad a lot. A grieving mother was a lot for a little boy to bear.

When I washed the product off my hands, I took a moment to look at my rings, remembering the moment they were put there. I could still see his face so clearly, hear his words in my ears; “When you have someone who loves you, it’s brighter and more beautiful than the sun and stars in the sky.”

I felt him around me all the time. But on these days, the special ones, that feeling was so intense I was sure that if I closed my eyes and reached out, I’d actually be able to touch him.

Once again, it was the numbers that got me, the counting of the days, the anniversaries, the birthdays. Each one that went by meant he’d been gone for a little longer. Each one another click on a counter. Each one making my heart ache a little more. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

Moving back into my bedroom, I slid the rings off my finger and returned them to the jewellery box in my draw. For a long time, I still wore them, but people would see them and make a reference to a husband that was no longer there.

I took them off to spare myself a little pain.

“Mummy,” Ty sing-songed as he burst into my room and bounced onto the bed. “I’m so es-cited.”

With a smile that cut through the sadness, I reached out and caught him in my arms, hugging him to my chest. “I love you, little golden boy.”

He settled his head on my shoulder, his curls brushing against my neck. “I love you too, Mummy.”

We stayed like that for a few moments. I think if I needed it, Ty would sit and hug me all day. He was special. He was sensitive. And because of that I was conscious of not letting my fight become his. For him, I smiled. For him, I lived. For him, I took these days—the saddest ones—and turned them into a fun memory. I think Tyler would have liked that idea, too.

“You want some breakfast?” I asked, pulling back so he was sitting in my lap and I could see his face.

“Can’t we have bwek-fast at Luna Park?” He was so serious that I laughed, touching him lightly on the nose.

“They won’t be open yet. So we have to eat here.”

He scrunched up his face. “How ’bout we go to Mic-donalls?”

“McDonalds? Hmmm, I think we can probably do that.”

He beamed. And half an hour later we were both ready and walking out the door with Ty rushing down the hall to hit the elevator button first. I called after him, telling him to wait before getting on the lift. When I caught up the first thing I heard was, “Where’s your cat?”

My cheeks flushed involuntarily when Jude looked up and met my eyes. The splint was gone and so was all the bruising. The subtle beauty of his face had been restored. “She’s upstairs.”

“Can I wark her again?”

“Sure, you can walk her. If it’s OK with your mum.”

Ty turned to me, his eyes large and doleful, filled with hope. “Can I, Mummy?”

“We don’t want to impose.”

“It’s no imposition. Perhaps the next time you go to the park I can bring her out.”

“We can go to the park now.” Ty started jumping up and down, clasping his hands.

“I thought you wanted to have breakfast at McDonalds then go to Luna Park?” I asked. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Jude has work. Look, he’s wearing a tie and he’s carrying a briefcase.” Ty took in Jude’s appearance with a thoughtful look as I urged him to step onto the elevator so we could all be on our way.

Jude held his briefcase up and made a face. “Sounds like you’re going to have more fun, anyway.”

“You should come wiv us,” Ty said. “You can take a day off werk like Mummy did. And you can come and ride the roll-a coast-a.”

An uneasy but amused laugh escaped Jude’s chest. “I’d love to come and have fun with you. But who would teach my classes if I’m not there? And who would see my patients? I’m kind of needed at work today.”

Ty waved his hand in the air, making a face like he understood completely. “Next time, then.” My son was four going on forty. I thought it was sweet that Jude was so patient with him; most adults didn’t take the time to listen to a child speak. Their ears struggled to decipher the unrefined—often jumbled—language as it fell from their rosebud mouths. But not Jude. He not only understood, but seemed genuinely interested in what Ty had to say. He was revealing himself to be quite the remarkable man.

“You teach and see patients?” I asked. The lift doors opened into the basement car park and we all stepped off, pausing in the vestibule.

“I’m a speech therapist. There’s a clinic on campus and I see patients around my teaching schedule.”

“That’s a lot of work.”

He shrugged. “Not if we lose our funding. The clinic will go and...” Pausing, he shook his head. “You don’t need to hear all that right now. You have a fun day planned.” He stepped forward, activating the sliding doors that led into the parking garage. “I’d better get going. But, if you’re willing, I’ll probably take Sophie to the park Saturday afternoon. I can knock on your door before I go.”

“Yes!” Ty shouted, pumping his fist in the air.

“OK.” I grinned. “That would be great.”

With a smile, he lifted his hand in a wave then strode off toward his car. As I buckled Ty into his car seat, he sighed happily. “I weally like Jude,” he said.

“You know, I think I like him too.”