It seems everyone is missing someone: deployed, living far away or passed into immortality. The holidays can be especially hard and they’re okay to grieve — just don’t forget to live, too.

Most of my traveling now is tripping down memory lane. Naturally, there are some not-so-happy times along the way, but it’s my choice to suppress them in favor of the good ones.

This has been a hard day for me (the 19th). It would have marked our 59th wedding anniversary. Yes, it’s very near the holidays, along with both our birthdays. It is as tough as I choose to make it.

Daughter brought me roses; we had lunch and got our hair done. It was good to be out and about.

The day started out with a few tears, but then my thoughts went to all the wonderful times we had celebrated this day through the years. There are too many warm, tender and fond memories to dwell on the others.

We have a choice to be as happy or miserable as we choose, and this old gal picks gratitude and happiness every (well, almost) time. Why live in the past or dwell on the negative anyway? It serves no good purpose other than to drag us down physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. Nobody needs that, so my choice is take control and steer myself in the right direction.

Not many couples get to share almost 58 years of a great working relationship. And that’s only one of my many blessings.

The wedding ceremony was beautiful. I felt like a princess bride with such an amazingly handsome groom awaiting at the altar. Our eyes locked, and his love for me pierced my heart. He later said he felt the same way.

Never a fan of big crowds, he sort of rushed me back down the aisle, however, my elegant hoop skirted dress needed be turned after I did. It was hilarious really, because he had no idea of my dilemma. As soon as I turned, he crooked his arm in mine and hurried back down the aisle. The problem was that my pointed-toe satin pump caught the bottom row of lace on the skirt and I couldn’t shake it loose.

Hobbling like a cripple, no one except me was in on it. That bouffant skirt hid it all — at least until we arrived at the vestibule. All of a sudden, I glanced down and there it was — about seven feet of lace and tulle missing in action. After getting my foot untangled, on the verge of tears, of all people the photographer came to my rescue.

He quickly ‘“mended” the tear with dozens of small safety pins and saved both of us from embarrassment.

Not many folks ever knew what happened, and the photographs came out with everything intact. Not only celebrities have wardrobe malfunctions you know.

After what seemed like an eternity of greeting guests in line, we finally headed down the steps to the parking lot, literally covered with rice. Without getting graphic, I’ll just admit that we both later found rice in unheard of places.

Leaving the church, enormous, fluffy snowflakes drifted gently. It was romantic.

We made our way to the reception via car driven by the best man and his wife, the matron of honor. More guests, a ton of wedding gifts and cake frosting on our noses made the evening complete. We went to my parents home nearby to change in our “going away clothes.”

It was customary in the north to sabotage the groom’s car, if possible. Luckily he and the best man hid it well and kept it under wraps. He drove us to the hidden car which was now covered in a couple inches of snow. The temperature had dropped, and it was freezing in place.

We ducked into the cold car and headed north for our honeymoon, but it turned into a blinding blizzard and we were fortunate to find accommodations just off the interstate. The roads were pure ice and visibility was extremely poor.

We grabbed a hamburger and hubby pulled a handful of change and rice from his pocket — the first of many surprises.

Later we discovered that my own mother tried to sabotage our wedding night. The lacy lingerie I had packed was full of straight pins — full to the point where merely touching it produced fingers pricks. She must have used every pin in town.

But the joke was on her. We didn’t even discover it until night two.

These memories and so many more bring a smile to my face but I surely do miss that man who called me “his blue-eyed bride” to the very end.

“One is a whole number. You don’t need a constant companion or audience to be who you truly are.”