February 14, 1997 and the Valentine's gift I will always remember most. . .

It’s funny how seemingly simple events can take on a much greater significance in light of later events. This happened to me 8 years ago today as a matter of fact. God gave me the best Valentine’s Day gift that I will probably ever receive. It was February 14, 1997. Valentine’s day fell on a Friday that year which worked out well for all of the couples out there, but made it just a little more disappointing for all us single gals. I was working at a local Christian book store at that time and, since the last hour or so before closing was rather quiet, I spent some time straightening the greeting cards. I was working on the Valentine’s Day cards when I came across one for parents. I don’t remember exactly what it said but I know that it expressed very simply the feelings I felt for my parents so, being my typically sentimental self at the time, I bought it for them.

After work, I met several of my single girlfriends because we decided to take each other out for Valentine’s Day. We had a good time at dinner and several were going on to see a movie but I decided to go on home. When I got home, I nonchalantly gave my mom the card and went about putting my left-overs away in the kitchen. She read the card and then quietly gave it to my dad. I was kinda watching out of the corner of my eye to see their reactions. My dad didn’t really say anything. He just came up to me and hugged me. But it wasn’t a normal hug. We are a loving family but not particularly demonstrative so I was surprised that when I tried to move away, he just kept hugging me. Once I realized what he was doing, I relaxed into the hug again and just let him hold me. He didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything. We just stood there in an embrace, each trying to hold back tears and neither doing a very good job at it. He finally let me go and quietly thanked me for the card and that was the end of the interaction as best I can remember.

That was the last time I really got to hug my daddy. He died 8 days later. He’d been diagnosed with cancer on January 21st of that year, and he had a particularly aggressive form of cancer concerning the lymph nodes that had metastasized to his liver. He’d been in good spirits and we had great hope that God would heal his body, but God chose to heal his soul instead. He had a round of chemo early that next week and was in a lot of pain because his liver was swelling and pressing on his other organs. My dad passed away in his sleep the next Saturday. I had no idea when he held me that I would be losing him so quickly, but I look back on those moments now, and I thank God for the memory because I will carry it with me for the rest of my life.

I don’t write this in the hope that I’ll get lots of attention or platitudes, I just felt like it was a story I wanted to share. This week between February 14 and the 22nd is always a strange time for me. I know I probably don’t let many people see, but I am a deeply sentimental person and anniversaries affect me greatly. I think that in many ways, my Daddy’s death has caused me to become more reserved in my expressions because I came to realize then that feeling that deeply inevitably leads to pain. So often I allow myself to stay shallow because I am afraid to risk the chance that I will be hurt on such a deep level once again. I know that my Daddy’s death was not his choice, and that hurt is just an inevitable part of loving, and so I try. . . but I try with my guard up, so that at the first sign of possible injury, I’m quick to jump ship! I didn’t mean for this to be some big personal revelation. I once told a friend that my blog wasn’t a window into my soul, but I guess right now I’m kinda letting it be that very thing. I just wanted to share this story that means so much to me. Thank you for reading it.