When you lose someone you love, the loss becomes part of you. As time passes the loss changes shape, weight, texture, but you carry it everywhere. It’s experience that changes you, wisdom to share in measured doses, depending on how willing another is to receive.
My father died of cancer seventeen years ago today: February 13th, 1995, the day before Valentine’s Day.
Thinking of everyone who has lost a Valentine, a long term spouse or partner (and I have several family friends who have, this very year, said goodbye to the loves of their lives, partners for half a century and more). I'm reposting this--from a year ago--dedicating it to my mother, who misses Dad in her way as I do in mine. With love.
Hey Lisa! How are things? Did you have a chance to read my book? I’d love it if you have time if you could write a short review on Amazon
. I hope you and your family had a very nice Valentines Day. Your post is lovely but makes me sad.
Hi Laura! I’m sorry I haven’t been doing much commenting or anything–started working again, as well as starting to query agents for my novel. But it sounds like so much great stuff is going on for you and Sick! Talks , interviews …Congratulations!! I have to finish what I am reading right now–my former college roommate just self-pubbed too–and yours will be next. This way, when I review your book, it won’t be the first I’ve ever written! Hope all is well.
Lisa
My Dad was born on Valentine’s Day, and passed away from cancer (on my sister’s birthday) 31 years ago. A fellow blogger wrote about how it feels to be a single woman on Valentine’s Day, especially, when so much is made about love between couples. So I especially appreciated your post, Lisa, because it gives voice to the other, often-overlooked perspectives about the day’s significance.