Sarah and I had only been dating for four months when she introduced me to her niece, Catherine. Catherine was three years old, and cute as a bug. She kept calling me Tim, and why not? She had known Tim her whole life. Sarah was embarrassed: Tim was Sarah’s ex-boyfriend. I tried to convince her that it didn’t bother me.

The night before Sarah and I got married, we had our rehearsal dinner on the waterfront, at a seafood restaurant called Finz. We had the second-story function room, and as our families laughed and told stories, Sarah pulled her dad away from the party, and brought him over to the window to show him the view. They looked down at the dock and the reflections on the dark water, and she thought, Right there is where I almost told Dad that Tim and I were engaged, years ago.

The first time Sarah heard the Rockapella song People Change, we were decorating the Christmas tree. She paused with a glass ball in her hand, listening to the lyrics, and quietly observed, “This is a really sad song.” It was obvious she was reminded of a bad breakup. It was hard for her to talk about, and I didn’t want to press her on the subject, but I tried to let her know that it was OK that she had been in love before. I was never jealous of her. I was grateful. All of our relationships change us; we learn so much from each other. I loved Sarah, and she would not have been who she was without her family, her friends, and her exes. I loved them all, because they were part of her.

The last time I saw Rockapella perform live was at the Cutler Majestic Theatre in Boston. I brought Nate, who had been listening to a cappella music, and Rockapella in particular, since before he was born. And I brought Sandy. And of course Rockapella sang People Change.

I had to laugh through my tears: isn’t it funny how things change. Now I was the one with a Troubled Past. I squeezed Sandy’s hand, and hoped she would understand.

People change. Life changes. Sometimes people leave you.

But love never dies.

Happy anniversary, Sarah.