It’s Valentine’s Day, and after 47 years of marriage, it matters more than ever. The years before us dwindle in number with no promise of another, making this February 14 a precious commodity.
As annoying as it is to live with someone twenty-four hours a day, I cannot fathom life without him. He completes me, balances me, steadies me. In a world where people love everything from tacos to movies, I find “love” too cheap a word for expressing what my Valentine means to me. Rather, it tarnishes the depth of my feelings, and sadly, language offers no other single word more satisfying.
Instead, let me live my feelings. Small acts of kindness, moment by fleeting moment, resonate as the only way to express the joy and the meaning of Valentine’s Day. For twenty-four hours, let me be gracious in overlooking annoyances and full of the gusto of giving kindness without measure.
I wrote this blog at 4:30 am as I sat with a dying friend, and I meant it But after 3 hours of sleep, I can see I failed to give even these paltry Valentines to my love…but in my heart there lives nothing but gratitude and appreciation for this man who hauls me around, helps me out of every scrape, and brings me roses on February 14. I love you, Bill.