Valentine's Day 2023

I have found that I did not dread today as much this year as I have the other 7 years.
And yet, with every breath I have taken, and every move I have made, these last 2 weeks
– there was that pressure of this day building up within me.
My thoughts.
My emotions.
My memories.
Even to where I was feeling it in my body physically.

And here I am.
Valentine’s Day 2023.

Sitting here listening to the winds blow outside, it’s warmer today than it’s been lately.
And the winds are from the south, so not as cold.
But oh how they whistle thru every nook and cranny, into every crack.
Thankful that this little house is more sure and strong in the winds than the RV was.

A 2nd cup of coffee and I sit here together in this morning.
Alone just with my thoughts, my emotions.
Alone with the memories that are bitter – and those that are sweet.

I remember all those Valentine Day’s with Rick.
Starting with that very first one in 1979.
I was a senior in high school.
And I was deeply in love with a boy.
Rick had graduated the year before.
I still saw him at church, and as he drove on the roads past, or near, our house.
Oh I was such a teenager-in-love!
I thought about him, I prayed for him, I dreamed about him.
I imagined a life together.
And then, Valentine’s Day came.
I had built up so much in my imagination that I just knew he would send me roses that day.
I waited, and watched, all day as other girls in my classes received their roses and candy from their boyfriends.
Nothing for me.
I would not allow myself to be disappointed though, because I knew Rick was not much on public displays of affection.
So, there remained in me thru that long day a hope.
Hoping there would be something waiting on me when I got home.
I walked in the house after school that afternoon, and there was nothing.
I couldn’t ask momma about anything, cause this was all a dream of my own heart and imagination.
I had not spoken a word to anyone about Rick, or about my hopes.
As I did my homework that afternoon, there was a feeling of emptiness that began to blanket over me.

A knock on the door, and I ran to see who it was.
Expecting Rick to be there.
Only it wasn’t Rick.
It was a florist, yes – but the roses were not from him.
Oh, they were gorgeous!
18 long stem red roses from a boy who loved me as much as I loved Rick.
Only I didn’t love this boy the way he loved me.
Richard knew how much I loved Rick.
And his precious words to me: “I understand completely how much you love him. Because that’s how much I love you. I only want you happy. I would only ask that if he doesn’t make you happy, by loving you back – that you will give me the opportunity to prove my love to you.” (We remained friends thru the years. He waited for me, never marrying. I heard of his death and my heart was broken.)

Well, that Valentine’s Day of 1979 came and it went.
With nothing from Rick.
Not a phone call.
Not a visit.
Not a card.
Not a flower.
Nothing.
My heart was crushed, my spirit was broken.
My soul felt like it was rattling with every step I took – because of the pieces that lay on the floor.

3 days later, I came home from school, and momma had a smile on her face.
I didn’t think much of it, until she just kept watching me.
Not saying a word.
Finally I asked her what she was looking at, and why was she smiling so.
She just simply nodded her head towards the kitchen.
Feeling very confused, I walked into the kitchen, and there sat a vase with 3 absolutely perfect salmon colored roses.
The card simply said, “please be patient with me”, signed “Ric”.
My Rick!
He had thought of me!
My heart soared!
The tears began to fall and I could not stop them.

I heard momma behind me, and I turned around.
She shook her head and said, “You barely looked at the 18 red roses, and you are crying like this over these 3?!”
I just smiled.
And in that moment I learned a life lesson.
It’s not the gift.
Yes, the thought counts.
But – what’s most important?
Who.
The value of the gift lies in WHO gives the gift.
Regardless of what the gift is.
WHO.

And then I remember another 35 years of Valentine Days.
. The times money was available, so the florist delivered the roses. And the candy boxes were laid quietly on the table. The cards were bought, signed and handed over.
. The times money was too hard to find, so there was a wildflower or two wrapped in a damp paper towel, held thru the day and brought home in loving hands. Perhaps a chocolate bar, or maybe just a handful of M&M’s bought with a quarter from a machine. A note of love written on any scrap of paper found, even a napkin or two.
. The morning that Rick let me sleep in, because the kids had been sick for days and were still out of school. He quietly got up and made ready for work. Kissed me lightly before he left. When I got up, there were what seemed like a hundred post it notes all over the house! In the frig and freezer. On the bathroom mirror. Found one in my pants leg that said, “My heart pants for you”. Some of them were so sweet. Some made me laugh out loud. A few, well, even now, 8 years after he died, I still blush.
. Times when we would go out to eat. Whether at a fancy restaurant, or just my favorite – Sonic. Whether alone, or with the kids in tow.
. Times when he would grill steak or burgers. When the money was there.
. Times we have had a simple bologna sandwich going down a back road.
. There were the evenings of watching a chick flick – cause he knew that’s what I liked. Our favorite being Rob Roy.
. Then, the hours of sitting in the porch swing, laughing and talking, dreaming of our life.
. In the later years, there were the long days of driving down the interstate as he was a long distance truck driver. Songs playing on the radio, and with certain ones, he would reach over and hold my hand. Maybe sing them sweetly to me, or very exaggerated, just depended.

And I remember these other 7 Valentine Days since he died.

• Twice I have gotten a rose. Once from someone who broke my heart. And then once from my son. That rose from my son stayed fresh longer than any rose I had ever gotten!
• I worked several of those Valentine Days. It helped to stay busy. But it didn’t stop the memories from flooding my heart, nor the tears from flowing down my cheeks.

This year. My 8th Valentine’s Day without my Sweetheart.

• I sit here this morning, thinking. Drinking coffee. Remembering.
• I have written about him on Facebook. I have looked at his pictures.
• And honestly? I feel empty.
• Oh there are tears. I feel them inside. But my cheeks are dry – at least for now. In the 2 weeks leading up to this day, I have cried a river of tears. Missing him. Angry with him for dying and for leaving me alone like this.
• But today, in this moment. I am just empty.

 
If I could sit with him and talk with him, what would I say?
What more could I say than what I said all those years?
 
Rick, I love you.
I have loved you since I was 10 years old.
That makes my love for you 51 now.
I wish you had stayed.
I wish you had fought better when we had the chance.
Back in 1995 when the doctor in Oregon told you that you had diabetes.
You believed all the old ways – that diabetes was a death sentence.
It was not something to be conquered.
It was not something that could be lived with.
It was absolutely something that would take your life.
Fast forward several years - 
I wish you had not given up that morning when the doctor stood at your bed and said that your kidneys were failing.
Not failED.
But failING.
There is such a difference in the tense of words. 
I wish you had realized that then.
He offered hope, he offered a life ring.
But you didn’t take it.
I think there were times in those last years that you grasped, but that life ring was just out of your reach by that time.
I wish so much, Rick.
I wish I had done things differently.
I wish we had done things differently.
I wish.
Oh how I wish you had stayed.
 
These days without you are hard.
The hardest of what I have ever lived and endured.
I feel so alone.
Even when others are around.
I catch myself listening for my phone to ring.
But then, that gut punch when I realize you don’t know my number now.
I listen for your truck to drive in the driveway.
But then, again, that gut punch, you don’t know where I live now.
It’s easy to tell myself that you are off on the truck, and just do not have cell service.
- I don’t mean to think those things that as you would say, are setting me up for a fall, but I do.
After all these years, I can hear your voice.
I see into your eyes.
I smell you.
And there are times when I really think I’m going crazy
– cause I feel your arms around me, or your hand on the small of my back.
​
I look at your pictures and I scream deep inside – talk to me!
I need you!
And there is only silence.
Silence that is deafening.
Silence that is a roar.
Silence that makes me think I am hearing the blood course thru my veins.
 
Oh, and damn.
Here are the tears.
 
Rick, I have always loved you.
51 years of loving you.
Don’t think that’s going to stop any time soon!
Just saying.
 
I miss you Sweetheart
More than these feeble words could ever say.
I miss you.
And I love you.