Boredom is the true sign of a weak and a lazy mind. Auntie God Mom always reminds me of that. We agree on so many topics. There is always something one can do to fill an empty day. On my summers breaks from teaching, I could easily stay at home for a week at a time. Never move the car. Never even take a walk off our property, while just making a home while being a homemaker. I love having a neat and organized space in which to cocoon.
In the 90’s, I knew an elderly woman who taught me tips about cleanliness and organization I hold dear today. She was the Queen of Clean. At any rate, she once explained to me that she never saved cards. Beautiful cards from family who lived far away. Read and tossed. Sentimental cards from her husband of 60+ years. Read. Smile. Toss. An old habit it was of hers. I’d never seen anyone so adamant about this. One day, I asked her reason, needing to know why she was this way. In her very sage and wise way, she answered.
“Joy, someday Bill will be gone. The last thing I want to find is a lovely card from him reminding me of the very moment he gave it to me and the hugs we shared on that occasion. I love Bill’s cards and he knows that. But, to keep them is like keeping a drawer of grenades. There may come a day they’ll leave me in an explosion of tears.”
Over time, I reflected on her words while deciding my own position on cards. About ten years ago, I finally decided there was some truth to what she said, and started disposing of them. She was right. As long as everyone was above ground, it was easy to smile at their beauty and then give them the Heave Ho. I was pretty thorough, or so I thought.
Yesterday, while finding things to do to pass the day, I noticed the drawers in my nightstand needed de-cluttering and so I began. Spare change. Old eye glasses. Things in that needed to go out. Pens and pencils that had migrated from my desk. All the usual suspects. Quietly, under a flashlight, a measuring tape, and three books, the grenades waited. Ready to make me explode into a flood of tears were two cards.
The first one read as follows.
“Happy Birthday to my Wife, Who has sensational charm, A dazzling wit, A fun-loving nature, A smile that won’t quit, Incredible passion, A gleam in her eye…And a husband who knows he is one lucky guy.” Love you, VST. Thank you for such a good 32 years. (Hallmark Cares) Two little bears were on the card in a variety of cute poses, just as little bears on cards often are. It’d been more than a year since I’d seen this, being given on my 2020 birthday.
Well, that one was hard. But, the next one was even more so, written on our Anniversary last year.
“What do I mean when I say I love you? I mean I’d do anything for you. I mean I’m in this for keeps. I mean your funny and smart and beautiful to me. I mean I love you. That’s what I mean. Happy Anniversary.” (Hallmark)
Sweet enough in luscious, heavy cream stock with roses on the front. But what he wrote himself blindsided me.
“Thanks for the best 32 years of my life. Love, VST”
In his shakiest, sweetest, left-handed writing, his words and sentiment alone were precious. Just like that, he could have been in the kitchen bringing me a bottle of water. I find myself wondering how nine months could have passed since he died. He just wrote this for me. He just held me as we shared a kiss and I told him “Thank you”. He was just here. But, JUST is nine months ago today.
Having time to think about this experience, I have no advice for or against saving cards. I know these two are the most precious things I could have found while cleaning out a nightstand drawer. Cards that have rested there waiting for me to find them. A message to remind me how lucky I was to have a man that knew how lucky he was to have me. Yes, VST. Absolutely the best 32 years of my life, too. Thanks, VST. Happy 9th Month in heaven. Tell everyone Hello for me. I miss you.