February 15, 2016
On Friday I watched with some amusement as male shoppers at Costco swooped up to the display of red roses, snatched bouquets of a dozen roses, and stuck them in their carts. I knew they were checking off a mental box, and wondered if the candy aisle was next.
Bill was always conscientious about remembering me on Valentine’s Day. The gifts were not lavish—a small heart-shaped box of chocolates, a bunch of flowers from the grocery store, a card either funny or sentimental—but he never forgot. Usually the gifts appeared at the dinner table, or at breakfast if Valentine’s Day fell on a weekend. I don’t think we ever went out to dinner, but we had a special meal at home.
I have missed those tokens of love since Bill’s death. No cards, no flowers, no chocolates. Poor me. So this year I did something different. I ordered flowers to be delivered to my sister-in-law who always has been loving and kind to me, and who misses Bill as I do. I sent electronic Valentine’s Day cards to friends, especially those who might not receive any. And I got out the last Valentine’s Day card Bill gave me; it is a Peanuts card, with Snoopy on the front, and inside Bill wrote, “love always.”
I look at those words and realize I do not need flowers and candy; I was loved by a good man, and I have his love always.
And on Sunday, Valentine’s Day, I went to church where a blue-eyed little Girl Scout presented me with the two boxes of cookies I had ordered: Thin Mints. Chocolates for me after all, on Valentine’s Day.
