Valentine's Day on "D' Range"

I spent my Valentine's weekend in Grand Rapids working at Zorbaz. It was a really fun weekend! And in case you're wondering, no, Jerry wasn't up there to celebrate the most amazing holiday of the year with me. He was in Milwaukee. And now he's in Hayward, Wisc. And then he's going to Rockford, Ill. And then he's going back to Milwaukee. And then, two and a half weeks after he left home, he'll return to my loving arms (ha ha ha).

And no, I don't really think Valentine's Day is the best "holiday" of the year. I don't really get it. Shouldn't every day be a day you tell your sweetie you love him or her? Shouldn't we always tell others we're grateful for them? Why set aside a day to be "extra special" to those you love? I think we should strive to always make sure those we love know how appreciative we are and how much we love them. It's corny and cliche, I know, but think of what would happen if you were to die tonight. Would everyone that you love really know it? Would you regret leaving a relationship a certain way? Would you regret words you said that would end up being your last? Would you wish you would have told more people that you love them?

I don't want to regret not telling someone I love them. The one thing I regret most in life is not telling my Aunt Carol that I loved her before she died. The last time I saw her was in her living room. She was dying of leukemia. Her thick, curly hair was gone. Her body was gone, replaced by a mere skeleton draped in skin. Her mind was gone. The last thing I remember her talking about was the smell of the color green and the way asparagus felt. She was gone. My mom warned me before we went to see her that the person I was going to see wasn't really Carol, but what was left after the chemo and radiation took their toll on her mind and body. We were going to see a person who was full of morphine and other drugs.

Even after this warning, I was still shocked, horrified, and deeply saddened by what I saw. She didn't even register that I was there. She didn't say hello back. There wasn't the warm welcome that I was accustomed to when entering her house. I remember following my mom wherever she went. We went into the kitchen and I started to cry. It was one of those moments when you're so, so, so sad that your whole body hurts but you try to hold it in. I didn't want others to start crying. I didn't want what was left of Carol to hear how upset I was. My uncles and mom tried to console me and reiterated that this wasn't Carol anymore. Just her body.

On our way out the door, I stood at the end of the hospital bed that was right next to the front window (so she could see all the birds and butterflies that were attracted to her beautiful flower gardens) and thought about saying, "Goodbye Carol. I love you." But I was too afraid. I didn't want goodbye to be goodbye. I just wanted it to be a "see ya later," but I knew better. I was too scared to say anything because I didn't want to start crying again. I wanted to be strong, but what I perceived as strength was more like ignorant pride. I was too proud to cry. I cared more about how I would look to others that about letting my beloved aunt know she was deeply loved. So I muttered a shaky "Bye" and walked out.

This is the thing I regret most deeply in my 25 years on Earth. If I could relive one moment, it would be this one. I would go to her side, hold her hand, give her a kiss on the cheek and say, "Carol, I love you." There would be tears. There would be lots of tears. But I would be content knowing the last thing I said to her was from my heart.

I don't want this scenario to happen to anyone of you, nor do I want to go through this again. I challenge you to get in touch with those loved ones you haven't seen or spoken to in a while and remind them of how they're loved. It can be an e-mail, a phone call, a card, or a conversation over coffee. Just let them know.

To my friends and family, I love you so very much. It might not mean much coming from a blog, but it's true. I love you. Thank you for everything. You have all shaped me in ways you could never know or imagine. I will never forget the love you have given me nor the lessons you have taught me. Thank you and I love you.