Every year on this day I look for ways to express my deepest gratitude for a love lost. I’ve created poems. Made declarations of love and admiration. I have spent time and money on things that will never be seen by the one that matters. My mother was born on Valentine’s day some 81 years ago. Unfortunately, she left this world more than decade ago, but on this day, it feels like yesterday. Yet here I am again, professing, explaining, and emphasizing to my one and only valentine.
Loss
Grief is a funny thing that twists and turns as time moves forward. It could be a few months or many years and the love loss hits you like a sharp pain that can knock you to the ground. You endure because there is no choice. My last words to my mother were, I love you and appreciate you. You can go if you need to go, we’ll be alright. I will see you tomorrow and if you are not here, don’t worry, I will still come for you. My mother is my one and only valentine.
It was at 2:38 a.m. on a Tuesday that I received a call from the hospital to inform me that my mother had succumbed to her illness. The numbness set in quickly and I went back to bed. I often wonder, should I have gotten dressed and gone to the hospital in the wee hours before she turned cold? My mother was like a bestie of mine. We traveled well together and got along famously. I regret not one decision made handling her final grand event. I only wish it didn’t have to occur in the first place.
Gratitude
My one and only valentine is the reason for my existence along with all of the extensions of myself moving through life today. I can never repay her for the life lessons that she taught me. The trust between us was unshakeable. I believe I’m developing that with my sons, but they question too much. With my mother, there were no questions, just blind faith. It never faltered. Not many can claim that they have or had a decent or even good relationship with their parents. I happen to have written a book about mine.
There is a pattern that I just noticed today. It’s been in place for years. My son who was very close to his grandmother always brings me roses on Valentine’s Day. I’m a fan of yellow roses because of the symbolism of joy and appreciation. I just realized, in this moment, as I scribe, the gift he goes out of his way to bestow upon me is not just for me. It is his way of honoring and celebrating the memory of his grandmother through me.