It’s usually when the barometer is up, the sky clear and the sun out . . . the temperature not hot. It seems to trigger emotions of things lost. I think and remember and no one is there to see my face or come up to me with the motor roaring. Trees and bushes growing and it comes to you that once you had to be careful not to mow them over; now the branches are whacking your legs . . . arms . . . and then face.

I think when the weather is uplifting and you have the surge of activity chemicals, you feel what you miss the most. It is not that the tears are unwelcome; they help. They are a love that will never be forgotten.

Not that this is bad; it is good, actually – but I don’t think I can explain it.