When Valentine’s Day is over, we will have written our names under “love” and moved on to February 15. The cards will be tossed or possibly saved if one is exceptional. Some tender hearts will keep them all and reflect on a day when someone cared enough to send Hallmark.
My mother left me a Whitman’s Sampler chocolate box from the 1950s. The chocolate is long gone, but a treasure trove of memories remains.
She had saved her Valentine’s cards from her childhood, storing them in the box. More than 150 cards in the yellow box were signed in the early 1920s. Some are decorated intricately with lace and ribbon; others depict cute, cherub-faced children riding horses or holding bunches of roses or a candy box.
They are signed by friends and family: Madge, Virginia, Lester, Helen, Mary Ruth, Junior, and, of course, James Robbins.
My mother and James Robbin developed a special relationship in their teens, but then Mama fell for Daddy, and James became romantic history.
We buried Mama in Monterey, Tennessee, on July 1, 2010. Ironically, or as it should be, it was my dad’s birthday, and we all knew Daddy got a mighty fine present that day in heaven.
I was standing near the front porch of my cousin’s funeral home, where we were to have the service. The bright sunshine mixed with cool mountain air refreshed my soul. The perfect day for Mama to rest beside Daddy in the little town where she was born.
A man approached me, took my hand tenderly, and said, “Lynn, I am James Robbins, an old friend of your mother’s. She was a wonderful lady.”
I covered my other hand over his and said, “I know who you are, Mr. Robbins, and she thought you were special too.”
James died two years later at the age of 92. His little cards are in the chocolate box he gave to Mama when he was six years old.
I am in awe of those who marry and stay together until they depart this earth. They are held together like the old glue used on those vintage cards. They forge memories, and their lives become intertwined into one. They braved the harsher elements of marriage and love, and they made it work.
I was fortunate to be raised by parents who genuinely loved one another. Did they hurt each other at times? Sure, don’t we all. But did their love survive? Until the day they died.
Love is the most complex component of our lives. Love can break you or make you, or just leave you numb.
I have known so many that love has broken. They fell in love and lost, and the resentment and heartache left them unable to love again out of the sheer fear of failing. For them, love became a problem instead of a joy.
I understand that because a broken heart has no medicine for the pain. The wound is slow to heal, and when it does, it leaves scars that can act up at times. Broken hearts can cause a fractured soul and can make you sicker than you ever thought you could be.
The best cure for a shattered heart is the very thing that broke it: Love.
The ability to love is the greatest gift we have in life. The only way to not hate is to love. The only way to forgive is through love; the only way to live completely is to love.
Many people are content to live without a mate. However, they still love. They love God, their family and friends, and life. If they suffered from a broken heart, they have fully turned the corner and loved what is in their lives.
I know one thing for sure, when I look back, I met some mighty fine people while giving my heart away to them.
My first husband met a wonderful woman who makes him happy, and that makes me smile. We were young when we married and still young when we waved goodbye.
I have stayed friends with some who broke my heart simply because they were worth it, which might be love in its finest form.
I am grateful for the scars in my heart. God healed my pain but humbled me enough to write about it. I feel compassion and have learned that love should never be taken for granted. Broken hearts do heal, and love can continue in a thousand ways.
We carry lost love with us always. It is essential to not continue to cry but to smile while remembering the best parts of it.
Just as James Robbins did 86 years after sending an extraordinary lady that first Valentine.
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Lynn Walker Gendusa is an author and columnist whose work appears regularly on Now Habersham and across the country through the USA Today Network. Her work has been featured in Guidepost, senior magazines, and on MSN.com. Lynn’s latest book is “Southern Comfort: Stories of Family, Friendship, Fiery Trials, and Faith.” She can be reached at www.lynngendusa.com. To enjoy more of her inspirational work about faith, home, family, life, and love, click here.
