Today, as all factual Criv-ites are absolutely successfully mindful, is Valentine’s Day. I’ve no longer at all purchased a Valentine’s card in my life, nor accept as true with I ever sent one, nonetheless many other folks will seemingly be waiting in enthusiastic anticipation of a card from a loved one (or an nameless admirer) popping through their letterbox, and seemingly as many other folks will seemingly be anxiously fretting over no longer getting one and what it says about correct how they’re regarded by others if they don’t.
However, this day my thoughts can no longer attend nonetheless mediate of my leisurely pal’s widow, Heather, whose husband Matt (identified as Moonmando to long-time duration readers of Crivens) passed away in a local hospice precisely a year ago this day from inoperable liver and bowel most cancers. It might per chance seemingly per chance be advanced when others about you are basking within the glow of getting a Valentine’s card when the correct particular person you would if truth be told cherish to receive one from is rarely any longer round to give it.
So, readers, as you savour the peace of thoughts of lustrous you are adored, spare a conception for Heather and those like her to whom this date is now not if truth be told a aim for celebration, nonetheless moderately a painful reminder of a heart-aching vacancy of their life. (Though that wretchedness is now not if truth be told restricted to excellent at some point.) Or no longer it’s tough when your time is up and you’ve got got to recede this world, nonetheless I most often wonder if or no longer it’s even tougher for those you recede at the again of.
