Heart-y

As Valentine’s Day approaches, this old woman’s fancy is lightly turning to thoughts of love.  To me, a life must have love to be healthy and hardy.  Without love, I think our physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual well-being suffers.  Our spirits become pale, weak, puny little things that fail to thrive.  With love, our lives are robust, multi-faceted, and always growing. 

This will be the sixtieth Heart Day I have spent on the planet.  They haven’t all been happy.  I haven’t always had a special valentine of my own.  I haven’t experienced any of those “rom com” Valentine’s Days filled with flowers, surprises, and perfect proposals.

Over all, though, I’ve been pretty lucky in the love department.

To begin with, I have God.  As St. John says, “God IS love.”  How can any Valentine’s Day exist… or any day at all exist, that doesn’t include a celebration of the abundant love of my Lord?  I am wondrously and robustly blessed.  My life can be nothing less than a love letter from and to God. 

I have always had the most supportive and loving family and friends.  They’ve always laughed with me, held me up when I’ve been drowning in sorrow, made me feel special, and pointed me true north when my internal compass wobbled in wild wonkiness.  Even in times when I was without a romantic relationship and felt desperately unloved and unwanted, I have always been loved and wanted.  I was just too much of a goose to realize it.  Max and I have been binge watching Downton Abbey again recently.  In one episode, the cook, Mrs. Patmore sends an anonymous Valentine’s Day card to her assistant, Daisy.  Mrs. Patmore is sure that one of the footmen is going to send a card to the other kitchen maid and she wants Daisy to have something to open as well.  After much ado, Mrs. Patmore finally confesses to Daisy that she sent the valentine and apologizes for instigating an unintended drama.  Daisy thanks Mrs. Patmore, responding that she might not have a young man, but she has a friend and “that is something.”  It certainly is, Daisy.  In fact, it is a great deal more than “something.”

Actually, Valentine’s Day has not been a very big deal in my holiday hierarchy.  I send cards, but that’s about it.  Even when I was in romantic relationships, my beaux have always approached the most romantic day of the year as little more than a Hallmark holiday.  The first guy I dated after my divorce asked me why I didn’t get him anything for Valentine’s Day, although I had, in fact, sent a card.  The irony, apparently quite lost on him, was that he had done nothing at all for me for Valentine’s Day.  Another fellow, who I dated for several years, did get me a valentine gift one year.  It was a rain gage.  Yes, a rain gage.  I think I can claim the distinction of having received the least romantic gift of all time.  I know everyone has a different language of love, but I think it is safe to assume that lovers don’t speak “rain gage” anywhere. 

Max and I have always acknowledged Valentine’s Day, but in a pretty low-key way. We exchange cards. I always get him the extremely sentimental gift of a renewal of his AAA club membership.  I know it isn’t a rain gage, but we can’t all be crazy romantic fools. Honestly, he would be very disappointed if I did not renew his membership.  His gift to me is usually rolled into whatever “big” gift has been burning a hole in his present budget.  For instance, last Christmas, he got me a tanzanite ring that represented Christmas, birthday, anniversary, and Valentine’s birthday for three years.

We don’t drag out the trumpets and play a fanfare.  It always feels like we “should” do something special, but we usually don’t.  Neither one of us really like to go out for dinner or anywhere traditionally romantic because everything is so crowded and expensive. It is a bit galling to realize you are paying more for an experience that you could have much more pleasantly on any other day of the year just to be able to say you are doing it on Valentine’s Day.  It is kind of the New Year’s Eve of love.  Hardened partiers call New Year’s Eve the amateur night for drinkers.  Maybe Valentine’s Day is the amateur night for people who are trying desperately to be good at being in love. 

There certainly are times when I fantasize about receiving a grand romantic gesture, especially at Valentine’s Day.  For the most part, though, I am happy to take my love as I find it, on any day of the year.  Our Valentine’s Days are not exploding with passion like a fireworks show.  I would rather know that I am loved and cherished each and every day than point to one specific moment in time when the valentine fireworks ignited.  Our Valentine’s Days are sweeter and less flashy, like savoring hot chocolate. 

Max and I understand each other.  We nurture each other. We enjoy each other.  We have a lot of the same interests and preferences. We introduce each other to different fancies that become shared eccentricities.  For instance, how many 68-year-old men trail after their girlfriends visiting Tinker Bell in Pixie Hollow?  And delight in it? 

We may not always admire the other person’s less-than-pleasant personality quirks, but we admire the totality of the other person.  The quirks are just part of the package.  Max loves me enough to do just about anything for me, if I tell him it is important to me. He doesn’t try to convince me why it isn’t important, he just trusts that it is.  In exchange, I love him enough not to play the “important” card unless it really is.  I don’t ask him to do things that I know he won’t want to do unless it truly is important to me.   

Yes, I am well-loved.  And, because I am, my life is heathy and heart-y!

Do you have a special valentine wish you would like to send?  Please feel free to reach out to your loved one with a heart-y message by leaving a comment.  If you would like to email me, you can do so at terriretirement@gmail.com

Have a love-ly day!

Terri/Dorry 😊

A Beam Of Love

In the wee hours of the morning on September 2, my mother found her way out of this life.  After over a year of struggling on her path towards the next life, she fell asleep.  When she awoke, I am sure she found herself in God’s dwelling place instead of in the nursing home.

All my mother’s life, she lived joyously and richly. She squeezed every drop of enjoyment and meaning out of every day.  She was almost always happy.  It wasn’t that her life was always wonderful or exciting or fun.  It wasn’t even that she had a particularly exotic or interesting life.  Most people would say that her life was pretty conventional. She was a daughter and a sister and an aunt and a wife and a career woman and a mother and a friend.   What made her so special was not so much what her life was, but how she lived it.

My mother had a gift for satisfaction.  She collected fulfillment and meaning in her every action, even the most mundane experiences. When we were out driving somewhere and got off course, she’d often say, “I never get lost; I just have adventures.”  I think that pretty much summed up how she approached life, way beyond just how she approached a road trip. Wherever she was going in life and whatever she did, she was determined to find happiness and pleasure in the process.

She was the kind of person who attracted other people. She was an interesting and interested person.  She was curious about all kinds of things and embraced opportunities to learn.  She relished good, meaty conversations.  She was an excellent listener. She knew how to make people feel safe.  She heard what you said and what you didn’t say.  She heard what was underneath your words.  I don’t believe there was ever anyone who knew her who did not love her.  She constantly sowed love and harvested relationships as she rollicked through her day-to-day existence.  She valued those relationships and nurtured them.  Even in the nursing home in her very compromised state, she radiated a kindness and joy that attracted people.

On the other hand, she followed her own heart in living her own life.  She did what she believed was right and followed the paths that brought her happiness. She used to say that she liked herself and she liked her own company.  She had a busy mind that was always tooling away happily, creating thought and considering possibilities.  I used to say she was her own occupational therapist because she could figure out alternate ways to do almost everything when her mobility started to desert her.   She owned a home computer before most people did and, even in her eighties, she embraced new technology that added interest to her life.

She had courage of conviction.  She walked her life with God as her guide.  She held firm in her convictions and relied on her relationship with God to support her in her journey. She believed in prayer.  She believed in miracles.

She loved God.  She loved life. She loved other people.  She loved herself.  In short, she was a joyful beam of love, illuminating and warming everyone with whom she came in contact.

Now this beam of love has faded into the next life, leaving this life darker and colder and considerably less sparkling.  The thought of going on with my journey without her physically by my side seems unconscionable.  Considering all the memories we shared, all the things she taught me, and all the gifts she gave me, it is inaccurate to say I will ever be traveling through this life without her.  All that she was is embedded in me and will be with me forever. I want to honor all she was and all that made her beam by carrying on her legacy of loving, joyful living.

It seems that now I will have to grow towards the joy on my own, without her walking in tandem with me. I don’t know yet how I am going to do that.  It helps to know that she has found the greatest Joy of all.

Thanks to all of you for your support as I have walked this difficult path with my mother.  Thanks, in particular, to my friends Louisa and Odete, who encouraged me to write this tribute to my mom.  Please share your perspective by leaving a comment.  In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.

Have a joyful day!

Terri 🙂

Special programming announcement:  I’ll be off the grid next week, but will be back with new content on October 4.