Found the perfect Valentine for Hubby. I love the story of us. The inside reads: “I love our details – our music, our code words and all the memories we’ve made together. I love our friends, our friendship, and everything else that connects us heart and soul.”
Hubby and I didn’t have any code words, but we had our own private signals. Like when we squeezed the other’s hand three times, it meant, “I love you.” And Hubby rattling his keys in his pocket meant, “Are you ready to go?”
Hubby is also presenting me with a valentine. Well, actually, I’m making it, but it’s from Hubby. Well, actually, it’s from Hubby’s shirts, which he wore, so same thing.
I went with easy. Twenty large blocks instead of hundreds of smaller ones. And I utilized some front panels of shirts with buttons and pockets. And in the corners of each block, a splash of red silk from one of his ties. With shirt buttons sewn into the middle of each red block.
It needs batting and backing, and then it will need to be quilted or tied, but this gives you a sneak peek of my valentine from Hubby.
I’ve been writing from home in the mornings, and from Starbux in the afternoons. The first draft of a 20-page eBook is completed and I will be offering it for free once the new website is up and running. It’s an overview of the last year of Hubby’s life with an emphasis on his tenacity.
To complete the project, I needed to read back through journal entries and year-old blogs, and look through photos. I came across a photo I had taken the day before Hubby died. I wasn’t expecting the rush of tears.
I set my pen down, covered my face with my hands, and sobbed. For him, for the suffering he endured so gallantly. And it felt good and cleansing. Weeping is good.
I wouldn’t trade having this husband with his cancer diagnosis—and all the subsequent sorrow and loss—for someone else without cancer. Because I love the story of us. Of Hubby and me.
Everyone at my neighborhood Starbux – well, at least this barista and I – wish you all a happy Sweetheart’s Day.