Final Valentine

Love isn't a Valentine. Love isn't a special Valentine's Day. Love is a continuum. Love is a lifetime - sometimes long, sometimes short, but always timeless - of extraordinary, spectacular time together. Love is an obsession, Love is a need, Love is a fulfillment, Love is a completion that transcends Time and supersedes Life. Love isn't Valentine's Day - Love is Valentines' Eternity.

One clear, cool morning, someone discovered I wouldn't be telephoning her anymore. I wouldn't be sending her any more emails or text messages. I wouldn't be joining her for dinner, watching a movie with her, or taking a walk together, with her. In fact, we wouldn't be doing anything together again - ever.

There would be no more serious discussions. No more worrying over the important and unimportant things - and trying to figure out which were which. No more formulating optimistic plans for our futures - dreaming of what could be. No more pragmatizing reality checks - acknowledging and working through what is. No more replaying our histories - thinking about what could have been, if only.

No more proper and right, most of the time, or almost sinfully wrong, some of the time. No more carrying her packages, helping her with her coat, opening the door, and holding her chair. No more flowers for her or a cuddly teddy bear to stand guard when I'm not there.

There would be no more frivolous play, no more teasing, silliness, or craziness. No more tickling up a fit or laughing until we collapsed.

No more hugs. No more kisses. No more....

All that, all of us, was over. We had come to an end. Past. Gone.

In the warmth of her bedroom, propped up on fluffy pillows, snuggled into the crisp sheets and soft, fuzzy blankets, reading the morning paper, and listening to "Good Morning, America," she discovered that...

I don't know what look may have spread across her face, whether her lips quavered, her hands trembled, or a tear ran down her cheek. I hope, after a moment, her compelling smile would birth from her beautiful mouth, her heart would remember the singular magnificence that was us, and she would know, again and always, that she was, is, and will be loved.

And I pray when her time comes, when all the others discover she won't be telephoning them anymore, her smile will brightly pierce Eternity and she'll be easier for me to find, the final time.

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Copyright Michael K. Miller of Millennium Suites, LLC & Millennium Writes™ 2009