Valentines Day Apprehension

I have been told again and again that even if I think a holiday or certain anniversary is not going to unnerve me, subconsciously my mind and even my body are aware that the day is approaching.

Last Valentines Day I was still very much in my grief-fog. I had planned to have a drink and a toast to Chris with my friend, Carol, but our plan was changed when a friend of hers invited us to a gallery opening. It was a nice evening, considering all I had been through. The gallery atmosphere with all of it’s colors and bright lighting somehow lifted me.

Valentines Day is just about here again and although I haven’t given it much thought, I have been more prone to tears than usual (the “new” usual) in the past few days.

Last night, I pictured Chris sitting across from me at a table in a small pub and I realized that I haven’t looked at anybody the way I used to look at him in a very long time. The sight of Chris had a way with making my heart swell. He had a way of sipping his beer, Anchor Steam, Sam Adams and the like, and of always coveting a sip of my wine which I readily proffered. I wanted him to taste it. I wasn’t completely settled until he did.

I’m not quite sure what to do with myself tomorrow evening. I still get excited on special society-imposed love days such as this one, as though the two of us have a romantic plan in place. For all of our denouncements of the day, which originate back to our first Valentines Day together one month into our relationship, we sure had a way with feeling the love along with the rest of the couples in Boston.

I still recall our first Valentines Day together. It was as awkward as it could be only one month in, yet together we sat there scoffing at the red, white and pink balloons ornamenting the walls of Jae’s Restaurant in the theater district. That evening, we learned that we both agreed that love is to be given and taken on any and every day of life and not just on holidays.

There are a few things I could do tomorrow evening. I could work out at the gym. I could shop for a gift for my friend. I could go to a bar or restaurant by myself and drink to Chris or ask a friend to join me in doing so. Somehow, the last option feels right. How can I leave him out? He is my love, even still. But he isn’t here, so what difference does it make?

Valentines Day will come and go just like his birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years Eve, New Years Day and our anniversary all came and went. I survived every one of them and they all occurred between November and January in a nice, neat concentrated package.

I understand, now, how year 2 can be more painful than year 1. At least year 1 brought with it a protective fog which prevented me from feeling some of the hurt and loneliness. I’m on my own in year 2, left with the hope that the remaining years of my life will grow progressively easier and that Chris, from wherever he is, will send me somebody to love, again.

Shneed.