God, grant me the serenity...
...to get through today.
This year Valentine's Day has me emotionally tattered, practicing my Yiddish, and very eager for February 15th. Today is day 90. Three months since Boomer passed. So today kind of sucks in a multidimensional way for me.
I'm not one for participating in the marketing hype and superficiality that comes with holidays, greeting cards, and the supporting fluff. Boomer and I had many conversations about it over the years. For example, Thanksgiving cards? Come on, Hallmark thanks you; I think they're silly and will never send one. I will however, pickup the phone to talk with you live (or now Skype) or send you a personal note or letter. Boomer, felt differently sometimes on this, he likes cards for some occasions, not all, but some. I always respected that, even stepping out of my box to get him a card or two. Because it mattered to him. No, not Thanksgiving.
My bereavement counselors remind me that grief is a roller-coaster. I figured out only a few days ago, that during these early months of my widowdom I don't just grieve the actual day Boomer died, I grieve the days leading up to it too, along with the days that won't be coming. It climbs, building momentum, just like the car on the roller-coaster making the incline before the steep, racing, plunge. I feel it coming on every month around the 10th, I unconsciously climb into the car, place the safety bar across my lap, and hear that rickety-clack noise pulsing through my soul for the next several days reminding me that I'm embarking on another swooping hill of sorrow, sadness, longing, loss - of my man, the love of my life. Oh, crap. I mean, Oy.
Today is especially icky because it's Valentine's Day. As I said to my recovery group yesterday, I don't give a rat's patoot about Valentine's Day in general. I never have. What matters for me are the other 364 days of the year. Please unexpectedly, authentically express your devotion, love, kindness on those days instead. Send flowers, candy, enjoy fine dining on those opposing days too (save some good moola while you're at it). To me, that's swell, or as I just read on Facebook, the cat's pajamas.
My heart is aching today nonetheless. Because this opinion of mine, is EXACTLY what Boomer loves about me. He would say this is one example how he always sees me as "low maintenance." He's not here this year to tell me any of that, while still offering trinkets of affection and adoration in only the ways he knew how - because he wanted to. I love that about him. I miss that. It is why my heartaches so deeply today.
For the last eight years, Valentines Day typically included a movie at home, take out, or some scrumptious meal lovingly prepared by Chef Boomer. Flowers and/or fancy dinner would be part of a prelude or epiloge bonus treat to the day. Sometimes both. In his way, Boomer transformed my love and memory for Valentines Day.
|Basking in the shadow of Boomer's love|
Peruvian take-out for dinner and watching Boomer's favorite chic-flick movie, The American President, is nice idea - - for tomorrow, February 15th.