Valentine’s Day. For many, this is the day to reestablish old commitments; celebrate romance and companionship; and dust off last year’s lingerie. For the unattached, Valentine’s Day is a day to brazenly call in a reservation for one at a swanky restaurant, and/or hoover vast amounts of chocolate at fairly quick intervals. For the Lawlers, V-day has come to mean something different altogether. Today is significant in that it marks another day of firsts: the first Valentine’s Day without Mom and Craig. After spending a memorable Valentine's Day together just one year ago, two people -- Emily and Dad -- are missing their partners. For Dad, in particular, today marks his first Valentine's Day in 36 years without Mom. So though it may be a romantic day for the rest of the world, for me, today is an opportunity to recall memories of a less romantic sort -- of Mom’s secret valentines, and Craig’s creative lyrics. Today is a somewhat solemn affair, especially as it signifies a period of time just before our life turned hard.
As I celebrate Valentine’s Day here in Bangkok, my mind wanders between two poles of sadness and comfort, heavy reflection and fragile hope. In these times, I find myself overwhelmed by memories of the past. Indeed, last year’s Valentine’s Day stands out vividly for me. Just like she had all the years before, Mom – my constant Valentine -- sent me red roses with a simple wish: to have a happy Valentine’s Day. And I did, for the most part. I took myself out for a bowl of spaghetti at a local cafeteria. I remember laughing as I texted Mom the details of my so-so romantic night.
The next morning, I awoke with a heavy heart, with the knowledge that, as I prepared for work, Mom and Dad were celebrating their last Valentine’s Day together. Though Mom was responding well to treatment, she was beginning to decline, and we knew the prospects of her surviving another year were slim. Trying to make the most of it, they booked themselves a room at one of Stillwater’s better hotels, and celebrated the evening with dinner, a movie, and a rousing game of scrabble like they had so many years before (scrabble was a new activity last year). They focused on the moment, and though the 'date' was simple in display, it signified much more, as if they were first-time lovers dating all over again, with similar anxieties over the future and the wish for the moment to never end. For them, the evening signified a recommitment of love between two friends, whose 36 year journey together would soon end. This was their special night.
Miles away, Craig was preparing for his own special night by cutting hearts out of construction paper, and brushing up on his vocals for his first one-on-one concert with Emily. Craig had prepared an original anti-V-Day song for her, along with a hand-crafted card. Craig always poured himself into his special projects, and knowing that Emily wasn't much into the commercial side of Valentine's Day, he crafted a song criticizing the banality of the holiday. The song and card combination most likely took the better part of the week to finish.
Craig and Mom were fortunate in that they were still relatively healthy and could participate in all the wonders of Valentine's Day. Had the holiday been one month later, Craig, at the very least, would have been too sick to participate. This time last year, we were still crawling slowly to the top of our rollercoaster, with only the tracks as our guide. By March, the rest of the ride would come into focus, revealing the complicated and twisted tracks of metal waiting to be tested. We are approaching the period of time when things turned hard and unbelievable.
Valentine's Day signifies more than last dates; it also represents the last week before Craig and Mom's health declined. In fact, a few days after V-day, Craig flew to Oklahoma to join Erin, Diane and the family for President’s Day. It was in Oklahoma where his symptoms worsened, beginning with cold flashes and general nausea. Soon after, he began experiencing the intractable vomiting that would characterize his seven month battle with cancer. Mom also began declining during this period, and experienced her first major fall, hitting her head against the wall after stumbling on a carpeted ramp. Soon after that, she started using a walker for balance.
It’s hard to believe that the projections of last year came true, and left alone are two partners – Dad and Emily – and five broken hearts, waiting for one more day together. I miss my constant Valentine. I miss hearing Mom's voice on the end of the phone, asking if I received the flowers. I miss listening to Craig giggle as he talks about his latest creation. Though the anniversarieis are difficult, I draw on the memories for comfort.
Flowers are poor consolation for all the loss. Still, Erin, Diane and I sent Dad and Emily flowers. And, as if guided by Mom, Dad has taken the helm as cupid. This morning I awoke to a bouquet of red roses with a simple note:
“Happy Valentine’s Day. Thinking of you, with lots of love. Dad.”
-- J
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