Valentine’s Day will be forever special to me. I’ve never spent February 14th drowning in tears or hopeless wishes; instead, I knew I would wake up to flowers, a card, and small presents.
Somehow, every year, for as long as I can remember, my dad never missed a Valentine’s Day. I never woke up on Valentine’s Day to a quiet house and a regular morning routine. I would sprint out of my room to be greeted with the smell of heart-shaped chocolate chip pancakes on the stove and fresh flowers, a smile blooming on my lips before I even sat down at the kitchen counter.
There would be three small piles of gifts and flowers: one for me and my sister, and one for my mom. It was never anything extravagant, rather a pink and chocolate-adorned smaller, second Christmas morning as I waited to open my few small gifts.
I never thought that Valentine’s Day could resemble anything other than my eager childhood mornings wrapped in the love of my family.
I never realized how much this small act of kindness meant to me, and how much I would grow to cherish those mornings as I grew up, hoping they wouldn’t pass me by as quickly as they inevitably will.
Valentine’s Day will always be a day of love for me, and even when I have my own family, I know I’ll remember my dad’s gifts to us each Valentine’s morning. I felt so special and so loved each morning as I toyed with the petals on my flowers and ate one too many chocolates.
A holiday that I know will eventually bring me mixed feelings as I grow up, will always begin with the grins and hugs and love of my family above all others.
I’m not sure if he intended to have Valentine’s Day always remind me of my parents’ love for my sister and I, or rather just to bring a smile to our faces, but it has always been the highlight of my February.
My dad makes Valentine’s Day perfectly special each year and I hope I can do my kids the same favor.
A small act of kindness I’ve likely taken for granted one or two years too many, I promise I’ll never forget for every remaining year I have left with my parents.
I only have four Valentine’s mornings left with my dad. Chocolate chip pancakes will become phone calls. Fresh flowers will turn into a bouquet shipped to my dorm. Before I know it, I’ll be buying a box of chocolates and small presents for kids of my own, texting my dad a “Happy Valentine’s Day” instead of hugging him tight.
I promise I’ll cherish each of these last four Valentine’s Days, soon to become three more. I never know how many moments and memories I’ll have with my family before I’m making my own.
So thank you, Dad, for years of Valentine’s Day memories I will hold with me every February 14th that I spend without you.
