There’s a photo on my phone of me and my husband Nick, shortly after we’d started dating. Our smiling faces remind me of a time when things were so simple, when all we had to worry about was what we’d have for dinner that night or where we should go on holiday that summer. Some mornings when I’m up early and the house is still silent, I yearn for those times. I miss the woman in that photo – carefree, happy and completely ignorant of some of the awful things life can throw your way. But more so, I miss the man in the photo. I miss the way he looked at me, the warm touch of his skin, the sound of his heart beating as I lay my head on
