Valentine’s, Vines, and Voids
This Valentine’s Day marks the second since my best half and Valentine of over 40 years lost her war against brain cancer. She was never big on this ‘holiday’ reminding me often “Scott, our love is far more than a one-day-a-year occurrence”. Nevertheless in this new life I have now this day brings with it an even deeper sense of loneliness I live with from losing her.
The first Valentine’s Day we knew each other was in 1974, about a year and half before we would eventually marry. We were both college students in the days long before email, Facebook, Snapchat, or even (gasp) AOL. She was in Minnesota while I was just shy of 1,000 miles away in Pennsylvania. We’d only gone on one date during the previous Christmas break, but I was totally smitten with this amazing, beautiful, and mysterious Iron Ranger. I knew I was punching way above my weight with her so I did something very unlike me. I decided I’d better send her flowers.
Walking from campus into town on a typically sloppy, grey, and damp Meadville winter’s day I realized I had no idea where a floral shop was nor what flowers I might send. A townie I passed gruffly directed me to the general direction of the store and the clerk there, who reminded me vaguely of my aunt Em, informed me “you can never go wrong with roses, young man.” I readily accepted her suggestion and then she stumped me with “what color do you want to send?” I replied “aren’t they just red?” “Of course not. Come here and I’ll show you what we have in our cooler so you know.” Red, white, a few weird pinks, and then I saw the yellow ones.
Only after we’d filled out the paperwork to FTD a dozen, long-stemmed, yellow roses did I think to ask “how much are these going to cost me?” With a smile the clerk said “does it really matter?”
I don’t recall the cost, but the clerk was right as it really didn’t matter! All I do remember is having to pull out the emergency $10.00 bill I kept hidden in my wallet for ‘beer emergencies’ and doing so without a second’s hesitation.
I hadn’t thought about those flowers in quite a while until last evening while I was doing some cleaning. In the corner of our living room is an old fashioned metal, milk can from some unknown farm. Between our engagement and our wedding my best half took that old can, cleaned it up, and decoupaged all kinds of our significant photos, sayings, etc. to it. It’s been dragged with us to every apartment and home we’ve lived in across five states. I’m pretty sure I swore at that can during every move we made as I schlepped it from place to place. However, feeling extra nostalgic last night I stopped to re-read it and saw what you see below.
It’s the card they sent with those very first Valentine’s Day flowers. They forgot to put my last name on it, but thankfully they put ‘Penn.’ on it so she knew where they came from. I’m sure it helped I was the only Scott she knew too.
I spent a lot of last night thinking about those flowers.
This morning I grabbed a bottle of Merlot from the cellar and put it next to the can and took another photo. It makes it a bit more complete for me. Wine was always a part of our intertwined lives and it was in 1983 she bought us our first bottle of this then little known varietal. IIRC it was actually from Gundlach-Bundschu Winery, but later on Clos du Bois took its place.
Years later, when we were able to buy our first home, my wife decorated our bedroom in honor of those yellow roses.
These days I still drink more than a bit of Merlot, love yellow roses, and miss her more than anything I’ve ever missed in my life.
So this Valentine’s Day consider a tidbit of advice from someone well seasoned: Never underestimate the power of flowers!