February 2019 is in the books now, along with Valentine’s Day. We widows don’t look forward to February 14th like we used to when our men were with us, but no widow ever forgets how things used to be.
Even though Nate was a big gift-giver, I don’t miss the gifts nearly as much as the giver… especially on February 14th.
This Valentine’s Day, however, included a lovely bright spot. I received a unique gift that was linked back to my favorite giver.
Linda is both an old and a new friend. We met 50 years ago in 1969, as newlyweds. What brought us together was our teaching assignments at the same southern Illinois grammar school. We carpooled that year and forged a happy friendship in the process.
After two years, though, she and I moved apart, and our lives filled with children, homes, and separate schedules. In a natural way, our friendship dimmed. But in 2017, we reconnected through my blog — and our friendship was reborn. It’s been rewarding getting to know each other all over again.
And that’s where Valentine’s Day comes in.
Collecting the mail one day, I wondered what a padded envelope from Linda might contain. Inside was a pretty Valentine card and a heartfelt note that had Nate’s name in it. She wrote, “I saw the thing that is in this package and thought instantly of you and Nate.”
I couldn’t imagine what it was but didn’t waste time guessing. Unrolling the red tissue, the first thing I saw was the back side of her gift. She’d written an inscription on the crème-colored stone, and these four words jumped out at me:
“In memory of Nate.”
It’s been years since anyone used those words in my hearing, and they touched me deeply, so much so that I broke into tears. No one remembers a man like his wife does, but knowing someone else was remembering him, too, surrounded me with comfort.
When I turned over Linda’s gift, I found a lacy red heart and the words, “I love our story.”
My sentiments exactly.
One widow friend told me recently the thing she most fears is that people will forget about her husband. With the passing of time, fewer friends mention him, and his face isn’t in any of their photos. No fresh stories surface about him, nor are there any memories that haven’t already been shared.
And maybe that’s why Linda’s gift meant so much to me. She suggested packing it away with my Valentine decorations, but I prefer keeping it next to Nate’s picture on my dresser, where I can see it every day.
“God loves a person who gives cheerfully.” (2 Corinthians 9:7)