If my husband were alive, today he would be turning 40. He was born September 22, 1968. He was exactly six years and six months older than me (my birthday is March 22, 1975). I always thought it was neat that our birthdays were both on the 22nd of the month.
It’s too bad he missed the last seven years. It’s too bad he never got to live to see 40 and have me pick on him.
Most people celebrate this monumental birthday with gag gifts from friends about being old. But he was really still too young.
Mike on our first (and only) anniversary (Aug. 28, 2000).
We were on the Jet Express on our way to Put-in-Bay.