A Year of Blogging: February 14, 2011

I am behind again with this blog. It is almost enough to make me give up. I am sure my readers will forgive me for being so behind with this one when they find out my reason (if they don't already know). So lets dive in. I think everyone knows what February 14 is. My four year old niece knows. My 85 year old Grandfather knows. I don't need to tell you that February 14 was Valentine's Day. I frequently think about my blogs during the day, when I'm at work, or going through my daily routine. I originally planned to let my readers know why I do not like February 14. Some people would think it is because I am single and feel left out. However, those people would be wrong. My feelings are you should be able to give someone love and affection all through the year. If you cannot be kind and loving to me the other 364 days of the year, don't bother doing it one day in the middle of February. I am possibly one of the few women who does not want flowers on Valentine's Day. I know how much the prices are inflated, and I would rather have flowers any other time of year but Valentine's Day. I can't enjoy them knowing they cost three times the normal amount. Are you a scrooge if you hate Valentine's Day? This year, Valentine's Day brought something else. My Grandmother, who had been battling Stage 4 Liver and Colon cancer since November, lost her battle. She had been going downhill rapidly for a couple of weeks, and on Saturday, February 12, my dad called early that morning to tell me he didn't think she'd live through the day. The family had all been called, the minister was called, and they were just waiting. By Saturday night, she was slightly better. I actually talked to her on the phone. Sunday afternoon brought another call from Dad, another 'it won't be long'. Monday morning, I talked to my mom and she was the same. Then at 10:30 am, Mom called and said she was gone. I came home, booked a flight, packed a suitcase, and at 4:00 the next morning, we left for the airport. A little after noon, I was sitting at Olive Garden with my mom, her sister, and Sydney. As I learned more about Gram's passing, I had a different impression of Valentine's Day. My Grandparents met when she was 16 or 17. Grandpa was four years older. He said she was the pretty farm girl, and he fell in love. They met at a dance, and someone bet my Grandpa a bottle of beer that he couldn't take her home. Grandpa won the bet, and her heart. He gave her a ring after she graduated from high school. They married two weeks to the day after her 18th birthday. Grandpa wanted to make sure she was 18. They married on November 27, 1947. Grandpa is Catholic, and Grandma is Protestant. All her life, she attended the small mountain church her Grandfather built. They said their vows first in her church, then went to the Catholic church and said them again in front of the Priest. They continued to attend their separate churches all 63 years of their marriage. Both were very active in their churches, and respected each other's beliefs. I have always admired their faith, and their ability to worship differently. Together they had 10 children, burying two infant daughters. They watched the eight remaining children marry and have families of their own. They danced at the weddings of their grandchildren, and rejoiced as the family grew with the births of each of the twelve great-grandchildren- the most recent being my nephew Drew in August. Any time there was a family party, you knew at some point you would hear 'Tennessee Waltz' playing. I only need to hear the first few notes of their song, and I see them dancing- arm in arm, looking just as much in love as they were when they first danced to that song all those years ago. In recent years, Grandpa cared for Grandma. She gave up driving several years ago, so he drove her everywhere. He dressed her. He always did most of the cooking. When she received the grim diagnosis a couple of months ago, he decided to honor her wishes and bring her home. It was extremely rough on the children, who now found themselves adding caregiver to their list of activities. Somehow, the family pulled through and did it. There were periods of drama, but that is to be expected in a family of 57 people. Grandma was able to die in her house; the house Grandpa built for his family 57 years ago. My Grandmother loved greeting cards. She sent cards for everything- birthdays, holidays, when you needed a bit of encouragement. The last card she gave was to Grandpa. It was a Valentine's card. The card describes their relationship so perfectly. It says that he is all she ever wanted and needed, her perfect valentine. It is truly beautiful. So beautiful that Grandpa asked my mom to read it at the funeral. It seemed this card was written just for them, and put 63 years of marriage into a few eloquent lines. She left instructions with one of Dad's sisters to give the card to Grandpa on Monday. I cannot remember the exact wording of the card, but it left everyone in tears. In the two days leading up to Valentine's Day, Grandma & Grandpa's house had been filled with their children, grandchildren, and even some of the great-grandchildren. Yet, in the end, it was just the two of them. Everyone else was in the kitchen, and Grandma and Grandpa were in the living room. Grandpa said he held her hand, gave her a kiss, and told her he loved her. He sat there, and he said it wasn't five minutes that he felt the strength go out of her hand. He looked over; her head was turned away from him and she was gone. When I thought about it, it seemed so fitting that it was just the two of them together at the end. On Valentine's Day.