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I Hate Valentine’s Day!
The first Valentine’s Day I experienced without my husband was a month after his death. I called in sick to work, because I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing everyone else’s flowers, candy, stuffed animals, and whatever other cute presents they received.
The next year … I called in sick to work. The year after that … I called in sick again. After that, I forced myself to go to work, and it bordered on brutal. The only bright side was when I spoke to a friend at work who was a widower, and he told me he hated V day, too. It’s true, misery does love company.
The weird thing? V day was never a huge deal for me when my husband was alive. I mean, we usually picked up something cute for each other, but we didn’t fight the crowds to go out to dinner or go away on a romantic holiday. We knew we loved each other, and that was enough.
Now, nine years after my husband’s death, V Day doesn’t really bother me anymore, but it’s still kind of a slap in the face reminder that I’m on my own. So are double sinks in the main bedroom suite. And his and her mugs, towels, etc.
When I see two people in love, I’m happy for them. I had a great love in my life, so I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything. I still miss my husband, but I’ve adjusted to being alone, and truth be told, I like it. I’m alone, but I’m not lonely, you know? I’m not…
