Happy Valentine’s Day to Me from Me

Everyone has their own traditions for celebrating each holiday, including Valentine’s Day. Some people ignore it because “it’s just a gimmick created by Hallmark” to get people to spend money on cards, candy, stuffed animals and flowers. Others celebrate with fancy dinners, flowers, candy and/or gifts of jewelry. I have to say Chris and I fell into a category somewhere between the two. Chris always gave me flowers. He would have them delivered to school or bring them home to me at the end of the day. The most special gift of all was a rose bush that produced the most beautiful small buds. I’m pretty sure he gave it to me about 10 years ago. For those of you who know me, you know that I can kill a plant just by looking at it. I did not inherit my mother and grandmother’s green thumb! It’s pretty darn amazing that it survived as long as it did. Yes, I used past tense. It appears as though I may have killed it. It breaks my heart. It was a physical hold that I had on our love and now it’s gone. I’m keep telling myself that this physical reminder is gone but the memory of the gift and the two of us planting it in a huge pot is still with me. It won’t ever die.

My gift to Chris was always something fun or creative- Valentine’s boxers, a red shirt or sweater, a red toolbox, a candy poem. I had fun thinking of what to do for him and planning it out.

We weren’t big on going out to dinner for Valentine’s Day, especially after we had children. I would cook an Italian dinner -spaghetti and meatballs- with salad and bread, of course. We would eat together as a family because in our house Valentine’s was a day to celebrate ALL love, not just love between a couple. The kids gave cards and candy to their friends and teachers. Chris and I gave gifts to each child- again some small token of our love.

Our last Valentine’s Day together was spent with a dear friend and his new bride at Ruth’s Chris in Savannah. We weren’t especially excited to be going out on Valentine’s Day but really wanted to make the evening special for our friends. We had a lovely evening together. On our way home, we both remarked about how nice everything was and that we were glad we had done it. I won’t ever forget that night -our last Valentine’s Day. Six days later, Chris was gone. For those who don’t know, he committed suicide. We had this beautiful evening together and six days later, he was gone.

So what do you do on Valentine’s Day when the love of your life is in heaven and your children are grown and gone. You do something for yourself! Make dinner plans with other single friends. Go buy your own flowers and enjoy them. Treat yourself to a spa day or just a manicure and pedicure. Buy your favorite candy and watch Wonder Woman. Sign up for a wine and paint session. Order delivery, crank the music and have your own dance party.

Part of this year’s plan has been made for me. It’s Ash Wednesday. I’ll go to the service at my church. This Valentine’s Day, I think I’ll focus on God’s love for me and my love for Him. Maybe you will, too.

Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return

A Few Things to know About Grief

#1 – Grief changes who you are FOREVER.

#2 – You never get over your loss. You absorb it and it becomes part of who you are.

#3 – People will give you timeframes – Tell them to stuff their timeframes as nicely as possible)

#4 – Fitness can be a lifeline and lifesaver if you allow it to be. (This is the hardest for me!)

#5 – There is no perfect roadmap that fits all people.

#6 – Some people will leave your life because they can’t handle your pain or how you change. Allow them to go.

#7 – Tell your story – you may empower yourself and others.

#8 – Don’t judge your process. Others may judge you but don’t you dare do it to yourself.

#9 – You can live again after loss. Honor your loved one by living. You are allowed to be happy, full of life, joy and peace and many times all those good things are mixed with touches of pain…welcome to the club. This makes you normal and it makes you a beautiful soul.

#10 Grief is a journey