It is circled on our calendar. Valentine’s Day. We eagerly anticipate the possible cards and gifts and extra hugs that it will bring. We relish in giving surprises or even sweet expected extra somethings. Kisses and hugs are just a little extra special. That is Valentine’s Day.
But in the *after* world I live in, every day is my Valentine’s Day. I savor the nightly kiss goodnight. I relish that we’ve all woken up this morning. No love left uncherished, no kiss ungiven, no wrong unforgiven.
That is what MPS has done. I will never say “if only” – if only I had gotten to hug them one more time, if only I had said I loved them or forgiven that wrong.
Hugs and kisses are as if they are the last. Our days are short. For some, they are shorter.
Let every day be Valentine’s Day.
Most families receiving a devastating diagnosis, especially one that is chronic and progressive, feel as if their lives and memories are sliced in two, creating the before and the after. Was this picture, this memory, this song, this event… before or after the terrible news?
We are forever changed.