“Romantic love is mental illness. But it’s a pleasurable one.”

–Fran Lebowitz

I don’t know why I’m thinking so much about Valentine’s Day. I was never very good with Valentine’s Day. I think I tried too hard. I wanted everything to be perfect. Why not, Linda Gail was perfect. It has been almost two years since she transitioned into the brightest star in the heavens and I miss disappointment on February 14th.

Linda let me know early in our relationship she wasn’t a cut flower and candy kind of girl. She did love her chocolate but that was an everyday, 365 days a year love. Her love for flowers was the same, but she wanted potted or planted flowers she could kill herself.  

Our first Valentine’s Day in the foothills of the Blue Ridge was particularly challenging. Since it was our first, I felt the pressure to make the manufactured celebration of love extra special, and made reservations at a nearby rustic inn with mountain views. A special meal for a special lady with all the ambiance Linda deserved.

It snowed. I believed my reservation was in jeopardy until a phone call told me the inn was open. No electric power but open and large fireplaces to keep us toasty, candles for ambiance, and wood fired ovens for a meal. All we had to do was get there.

We made it. For three hours it was wonderful and then it wasn’t.

The setting was perfect with the mountains in the background, a waitress attending to our every need, a bottle of fine wine, and the food…I don’t remember except for the mushrooms stuffed with duck pâté en terrine. The pâté ended up on the side of the road with the rest of the majorly expensive meal, explosively expelled on the way home. I think they used poisonous mushrooms. Not really but for my bride they might as well have.

We stopped twice on the way home to allow her to lose her cookies and then spent a sleepless night praying to the porcelain throne. Oh, how romantic. To make it even more disastrous, I didn’t get sick.

This was the worst of a series of Valentine’s Day misfortunes. We finally just gave up and simply exchanged sweet cards. I remember her telling me she didn’t need Valentine’s Day celebrations to celebrate our special love; we celebrated every day.

To be fair. Linda and I had many wonderful, very romantic excursions. They just didn’t happen on Valentine’s Day. Like our love, our adventures tended to be unplanned and out of the clear blue. That is what I miss most.

We still celebrate our love. She shines from above like Venus in September and I fall into my memories from here at home. My memories are very important to me. I still miss you terribly and love you dearly. Happy Valentine’s Day, my love. You are loved and missed. Keep shining from above.