“Your sister’s plane is scheduled to land at 1:30 p.m.,” I said to my oldest daughter, Gina.  “She is renting a car and will get here an hour or so later.” 

We were anxious to be together as a family, even if it might only be for a few days.  Dave, my husband of 40 years, lay dying in the oversized hospital bed.  He had been diagnosed with cancer a few weeks ago and the disease, moved quickly to claim its next victim.  While I treasured the time alone with Dave, talking and sharing memories, I knew we needed to be together as a family during this time.

“I will wait until this evening to come over,” Gina said.  “That will give Katie a chance to be with Dad alone.” 

Katie, our youngest, lived in California, and made this trip for the third time since her father’s terminal diagnosis; this had been a difficult season for all us, but filled with many blessings too.

Dave and I celebrated forty years of anniversaries.  Like most marriages, we had our tough times as well as good.  We struggled with finances until we learned how to manage money, and like many young couples, we had to adapt to life away from family when our work took us to another state. 

Dave and I met following his stint in the military.  He served his country by two tours of duty in Vietnam with the Marines.  Returning Vets had many issues to deal with and my husband was no exception.  I needed to learn to grow up and admit that I did not need to control everything.   So, we learned about being a family, and as man and wife, discovered life contained ups and downs, rough seas and calm waters.  Looking back we agreed we grew so much more during the difficult days.  Our faith in God brought us closer together just as the hard-times had.

The most difficult time of all encircled us.  For the first time in our married life, Dave was sick.  Except for the occasional flu bug or a cold, he never suffered with illness.  He was never hospitalized nor did he need a doctor’s care.  I think this is why we were so socked when Dave began to fight just to get up out of a chair, grasping for breath and struggling for strength.  What began as a bad cold progressed to a deep and nagging cough that seemed to come from the depths of his chest.  The diagnosis of pneumonia soon escalated to a terminal cancer diagnosis and we were all stunned. 

Dave fought for life enduring chemo treatment and a series of frightening trips to the emergency room.  A number of fear-provoking hospital stays, punctuated with more tests netted the same results. At this point they only held out false hope, serious discomfort and unimaginable pain.

Dave finally said, “Enough.”  On Christmas Eve, 2010 he asked me to call hospice.  Done with chemotherapy and the devastating side effects and all future tests the professionals wanted to conduct, he bravely faced his short future. 

“I am here,” called a voice from the back door.  Katie dragged her suitcase over the threshold and immediately unbuttoned her coat.  “How is dad?”
“He is sleeping in the front room, go in and say hi.  He is still semi-conscience, but might react to your voice.”

A few minutes later, Katie joined me at the table for a cup of coffee.  “He turned toward me when I spoke to him, do you think he knows I am here?”

“Yes, I am sure he does, he just doesn’t have the energy to respond any other way.  It has been a struggle for him to say the few words he had been saying.  Sherry, the hospice nurse, said this is normal behavior.”

Katie sipped her coffee and rotated the steaming cup in her hands, warming them a bit.  “This is quite a journey, isn’t it?” she said, more a statement than a question.

“Oh, it sure is.  Today became another day of miracles, of God helping me to see that He is here with us.  I have to share this story with you.

I had been doing chores all day, trying to keep busy cleaning the house, and preparing for whatever tomorrow might bring.  I found myself scrubbing floors, running a rag along the woodwork, performing busy work to keep my mind occupied.  About an hour ago I peeled off the rubber gloves and tossed them into the trash.  The house smelled clean and I felt like I had accomplished something.  Your father had been resting peacefully, but I still found myself checking on him every few minutes.

For some reason I touched my ring finger and felt the sharp prongs.  Horrified, I glanced down at my hand and discovered my diamond gone.  I couldn’t believe it.  For forty years I wore these rings and now, on February 14^th, Valentine’s Day, with my husband dying in the other room, the first symbol of our love disappeared.  I tore through the trash, scooped up the gloves and shook them, turning them inside out, trying to find my diamond.  I began to retrace my steps and then stopped and called out to God, ‘You know where it is Lord, show me.’

I walked into the back bedroom where I had last cleaned and there I spotted something glimmering in the carpet strands.  Bending down to retrieve the object I offered a prayer of thanksgiving.  My precious diamond, the tiny rock, lay tangled in the carpet fibers. What were the chances I would ever find that precious stone without God’s help?”

“Oh, it is Valentine’s Day,” Katie said.  “I almost forgot. What a story.  You must have been frantic.  I can’t believe you found the stone so easily.” 

“I guess the angels who have been surrounding your Father these past weeks helped me in my time of need too.  Speaking of Valentine’s Day, where is Evan?”  Evan my 4 year old grandson came with his mother on this visit and I wanted to see him.

“He is with his other grandma.  She wanted me to have some time with you and dad without having to chase an energetic ball of fire.  You would have been so proud of him on the plane, playing and napping and watching videos, he became the poster child for traveling parents.  Now he needs some time to play and run; to be a boy.  I will pick him up after his nap and bring him over to see Papa.”

“I have a Valentine’s heart for him, if it is ok to give him candy.”  I know how much I loved the assorted candy found inside those cardboard heart boxes,” I continued, reminiscing with Katie.

"As a little girl, I had a sweet tooth so Valentine’s Day became a favorite holiday for me.  I have to confess, there were not many times I looked forward to my father coming home from work, but Valentine’s Day felt different.  Every year he would bring a large heart filled with candy for my mother.  He also brought smaller heart-shaped containers for my sister and me.  I wanted to continue that tradition with Evan.”

“He loves candy, especially chocolate and I know he will be thrilled to get one of those fancy boxes.”

“Good, I can’t wait to see him.”

Navigating through this season of life, I spent some of my time remembering.  I recalled past Valentine’s Days.  How ironic that a holiday which had very little meaning to me for most of my adult life now became the symbol of a strong bond of love that would be truly missed.  We were not overly demonstrative with our love, never prone to hold hands as many couples; nor did we share longing glances across the room, but we were family.  Valentine’s Day was not held in high esteem for either of us, and no special place in my heart thought this holiday special until now, February 14, 2011.

While living in this difficult and painful season, we were blessed to have a wonderful hospice program to tap into.  They loved and instructed us through the dying process. Dave had been semi-conscience for over a week, seldom communicating, and in a state of peaceful sleep most of the time.  The hospice angels taught me how to administer medications and they instructed me in the ways of staying on top of the pain so he would not suffer unnecessarily.

Losing my diamond and then finding it again felt like a miracle and I soon discovered the Valentine’s blessings had just begun.  Our hospice nurse visited a couple times a day by now, and she called in between visits.  During her morning visit, I sat next to Dave spoon feeding him ice chips.  His mouth looked so dry and his cracked lips needed moisture.  I felt useful helping him this way, perhaps helping him feel more comfortable.  The nurse, Sherry, told me I did not need to do this, he did not need the water any longer.  She explained that his system had been shutting down and did not require nourishment.

“Will it hurt him if I do this?” I asked.

“No,” she said, so I continued to minister to him in this small way.  Up to this point, I amazed myself how I cared for my husband with a fearless attitude, in the most personal ways; and how he could accept the care humbly.  God’s blessings were bountiful these eleven weeks.  The nurses called me a natural and said I should consider this a possible new career.  I knew better, I knew God had given me extra doses of grace each morning, filling my heart with love for my husband until I felt it would burst.

February 14^th through February 18^th has become known to this family as Valentine’s week.  The symbol of love surrounded our family and God’s blessings continued to flow.  On Wednesday, the 16^th, sitting at my husband’s side, spoon feeding ice chips again, Katie entered the room.  My spoon poised in mid-air I saw Dave turn to me and smile.  I had not seen so much as a grin on his face for weeks. 

“Are you smiling at me?”

He slowly nodded, which is more of a reaction than he had offered for a long while, and then puckered his lips.  Astounded, I asked, “Do you want a kiss?” Again, he supplied a nod.

I leaned over and gently touched my lips to his.  I will forever remember this moment.  Pulling back I saw the smile still covering his face. 

“Katie, come and sit here, perhaps he will interact with you too.”

He did look to her, but no more recognition filled his eyes. 

Later that day, Katie shared with me that she thought the scene which unfolded earlier between her father and I expressed his final goodbye to me.  What a joy filled my heart.

Somewhere between 3 a.m. and 4 a.m. February 18^th, Dave went home to be with Jesus.  Valentine’s week is a new holiday season for this family.