King of Hearts

February 13, 2013

I have been looking at pictures of Ron the past couple days and instead of seeing his smiling face with those deep dimples and twinkling eyes, I could only picture him lying in his plain pine casket, frozen in time.  From somewhere deep inside my soul, someplace in the far reaches of my heart came an unexpected, racking sob.  I felt empty and alone in a way I hadn't remembered since the night he died.  I remembered the coolness of his hand in mine as I said my final goodbye and the roughness of his stubbly face against my cheek as I kissed him for the very last time.  It is a body memory that stays with me to this day.

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, the day of hearts and flowers and sweetly wrapped sparkly surprises.  Tomorrow is the day for love and lovers.  There will be red hearts everywhere I look.  Red hearts which used to represent the bond of two people joined together by love, time and history. Now, hearts represent betrayal and loss.  You see, it was a heart that betrayed our love - not the esoteric wanderlust heart, but the muscle and sinew of the pumping orb that sustains life heart.  The four chambers and valves that together create the tick-tock of ones life-force.  It was, in the end, a heart that took him from me forever. 

Tomorrow is also the 14th.  The anniversary day of Ron's death.  It will be 8 months - not a particularly remarkable milestone but it still brings up so much hurt, pain and sadness.  It's been 8 months already!  I miss that man so much.  His silly antics, determined way he would go about a project, the way he scratched my back and helped me calm at night so I could sleep.  I miss his hugs - and we hugged a lot.   I miss the way he looked at our beautiful daughter with such overwhelming love.  He has missed so much as well.  Our life - the one we were supposed to live together until old and grey, he is missing.

Tomorrow, I will miss his secretive escape to the store to buy flowers for his girls and for me.  He always brought my older daughter a dozen roses - always.  When she was 9 yrs old when he bought her very own flower vase.  He handed the roses to her and said "I always want you to know how special you are and how you deserve to be treated by a man."  Her eyes would sparkle and her smile lit up the room.  She had never received flowers before for Valentine's Day.  Ron set the bar and he set it high.  When Alexandra was born, he started with a single rose in a bud vase and soon she had her very own flower vase too.  It became one of those expectations that still gave us all a spark of excitement. We knew we were getting flowers, but the color was a surprise.  After a few years, he created a rose color code.  Ron would say - "Mama gets red because she is the Goddess/Queen of the house.  Megan gets a darker pink because she is an older princess and Alexandra gest either white or light pink - for the little princess."  It was so special for all of us but Ron loved it most of all.  He, after all was the King of his home and he loved nothing more than to see us happy. I have debated whether or not I should continue his tradition or just leave it with his memory.  I almost can't bear to see Megan's face handing her a dozen roses knowing that it would be a reminder of the thorns and how delicate and painful such memories can be.

Tomorrow, I will do my best to smile and allow others their special day of love, but inside I will be mourning again the loss of love and innocence of the heart.