A Non-Romantic Valentine to My Loved Ones

    Valentine’s Day is approaching sending millions scurrying to Hallmark for the perfunctory manufactured notes expressing meaningful love. The restaurants will be full, the chocolates will be bought, and there will be proposals of marriage. When I was a child eons ago, this was an exciting holiday. My mother bought me valentine’s cards and cute boxes of candy hearts to dispense to my schoolmates. Ah, the joys of this holiday.

    Up north, Valentine’s Day also marks the nearing of the end of winter. Once Valentine’s Day rolled around, I used to anxiously await the lengthening of the days, the melting of the snow, and the welcoming of warmer weather. The dreary whites and grays which covered the prairie would soon give way to bursts of color. I dreamed of my cloistered indoor living existence ceasing and bounding in verdant greens.

    Now that I am a single seasoned crone, Valentine’s Day takes on a different meaning. Culturally, the older one gets the more one disappears in this youth and beauty oriented society. People forget love has no age limit. An elderly friend echoed this sentiment when I turned sixty proclaiming to me, “Welcome to the land of the disappeared.” So how will I be celebrating Valentine’s Day in this obsessed age of forever young?  I will be writing grateful valentines to my loved ones who have recognized I have not donned the cloak of invisibility.

    Every year I write incredibly tender valentines to my tribe. This is no easy feat for a woman who prefers thinking over feeling. My current valentine tradition began in 1991 when six important people in my life died unexpectedly within a six month period. To have so much taken from one suddenly is like standing up against an emotional tsunami. Even to this day, 1991 will forever reign as the saddest year of my life. For anyone who has experienced crushing unexplainable loss, the grieving is all consuming. Every morning I awoke crying, every night tears stained my pillow. I wondered if there would ever come a day when I did not weep. Then in 1992, the numbness and shock subsided enough to recognize there was still life abounding around me. That is when I made my vow to honor my loved ones who contribute in both large and small ways to my existence.

    On this Valentine’s Day I will most likely not have a suitor, receive chocolates, or get a proposal of marriage. I will, however, convey my deepest gratitude to my loved ones for the importance of their presence in my life.