A year ago yesterday, the beginning of the end began. Last year, I embraced this change by honoring it with a girl’s night out on the 13th. This year I embraced the same.
Valentine’s Day is different now. This is the second year in a row that I will honor this day solo as my own holiday. It is not a holiday that I share any more. I also send Valentine’s cards to women in my life. Last year, they were sent when most people did not yet know that I was already single.
Last year, there was an important, public facing meeting scheduled at 8:30am on Valentine’s Day. I woke up last year wanting to pull the covers over my head and have a moment to grieve the loss of the biggest relationship of my adult life. Since that was not an option last year, I anted up and got dressed for success.
Of course, the morning did not go as planned. The meeting I thought was downtown was in fact scheduled close to my house. I treated myself to a cappuccino at my favorite downtown Phoenix coffee shop, which promptly spilled down the front of my outfit. At that point, I could only laugh; laughter was the best option.
Today, I planned to go skiing. The local Arizona resort sent out free lift tickets for today, which sounded irresistible until I arrived home last night and the weight of the waves of grief settled into my body.
Last night, I gave myself permission to not go to Flagstaff today if it did not feel right when I woke up. It did not feel right.
Today will be a day embracing the waves of grief, cuddling with my main man, Merlin, and acknowledging that grief is part of the process of letting go even when you know that the future is bright, maybe especially when you know that the future is bright.
The blanket that I bought before my retreat is still a safe place to curl up even in it’s imperfection where Merlin chewed holes while we were on the honeymoon of the end in Asia.