Today would have been my husband’s 66th birthday. That’s 24 birthdays that I have not been able to wish him “all my love forever” or “here’s to another wonderful year together.”

Instead I call my kids – now closer to the age their father passed away than to the ages they were when he did – and say with humor, “A corona at lunch today in honor of Daddy!”

This is not meant to be maudlin, but a celebration of one of the finest men to have ever lived. I may refer to Charles A. Fisher III in my writings, but I rarely discuss him in any intimate detail. I just assume no one really cares other than me, my children, my family – my mom in particular – my very, very close friends, and scores of men and women whose lives he touched as a teacher, as a marine fire crew chief in Vietnam, as an assistant district attorney in Philadelphia, and as a partner in a Philadelphia law firm.

Charlie Fisher: Fish to his closest friends; Buddy to me; Chuck to his fraternity brothers who knew how much he hated that moniker. A man with integrity, self-confidence, intelligence, compassion and wit. How lucky we all were to have him grace our lives.

Thank you dear readers for indulging me.

Now go get that lime and join me in a toast!