I woke up Saturday morning and immediately my thoughts turned to Valentine’s Day. I really thought about what this special day is all about. Obviously, it is about love, and it serves as a reminder to pay extra attention to those we so truly love. Although it may be somewhat over-commercialized, I think it is a special occasion worth celebrating.
My mind was thinking about love across the board, not just romantic love. I thought about loved ones who are no longer here with us as well as those special souls who brighten our lives on a daily basis. Valentine’s day is marked by the presence of flowers also, bouquets of red roses to be given to that special someone in our lives.
As I was pondering all these thoughts about love and giving thanks for the abundance of love that exists in my own life, I thought about flowers a little more in depth. A thought crossed my mind, and I remembered that the daffodils should be announcing their presence out in the country around old homesites.
I got in my truck and went in search of these flowers that have come to mean so much to me. I have patches of these beautiful blooms marked on a map that exists in my mind. Some are growing in pecan orchards; some are just out in the woods and then there are those that are still flourishing by old houses that have long since been forgotten.
Wherever they might be growing, at some point the bulbs that produce these lovely blooms were put in the ground most likely by a sweet lady with a love for them as well. I think back in the days those bulbs were planted it was a simple pleasure for those sweet souls who took the time to brighten up a pretty rugged landscape.
It is pure joy for me to see those blooms year after year and to remember those daffodils that were undoubtedly planted out of love. I often wonder if those sweet ladies ever imagined that many years after their own departure from this earth that those blooms would still be present and bring joy to the ones who take the time to seek them out.
As I drove around on those old dirt roads, camera in hand taking a multitude of pictures, my mind continued to think about the many shapes that love takes on. I thought about what a tremendous gift that love actually is for us all. It is recorded in scripture that “faith, hope and love remain, with love being the greatest”. I agree with every fiber in my body.
In that same chapter in the Bible, 1 Corinthians 13, which is widely regarded as the “love chapter” there is yet another verse that stands out in my mind. It is a verse of scripture that I have read my entire life, but twelve years ago it spoke to me like never before. You see, twelve years ago my daddy died and as I was preparing notes for his funeral this verse jumped off the page at me.
“Love never dies”. Despite the many times that I had read that before; on this day it took on even greater meaning for me. You know what it’s really pretty simple as it means exactly what it says, “love never dies”. My eyes were opened to the fact that love never dies, not ever. Love is the one thing that will never die as it is always living.
It lives in our hearts. Although a loved one may die, the love we have for them lives on. Simple, but yet so profound. On that day I realized that even though my daddy had left this earth, the love I had for him in my heart was alive and well. What a tremendous gift for us all. Although, most certainly, we miss our departed loved ones, our love for them lives on.
When my paternal grandmother was thirty-one years old, she was met with an unthinkable event in her life. My grandfather died at age thirty. He died from exposure. My granddaddy suffered from depression and had been sent to the mental health hospital in Milledgeville. It was in the winter, and my granddaddy wanted to come home and see his wife and four children.
He did what he knew to do, he broke out of that hospital and headed for Midville. He had to swim the river, and he made it to the other side, but ultimately died from exposure, hypothermia on the opposite bank. He died many years before existence, but as I type out these words, the tears are freely flowing from my eyes.
What would make a man risk the elements, the frigid temperatures? Love. Just love, plain and simple. What would make a man, many years later, who never knew him break down and cry like a baby? The answer is the same, love. I am bound to him because of love. I have felt his presence and his love my entire life even though I never laid eyes on him in person. Love is a mighty powerful thing.
My grandmother, known to me as Bigma, lived on for a very long time. She was my hero, she was my best friend, and I had the privilege of spending so many wonderful years in her presence. When I got older, I began asking questions about the man I felt so connected to despite having never met him.
Bigma told me many things about him and I’m so thankful she did. I asked her one day why she never remarried? She replied she didn't want anybody to mean to her children. I looked at her and smiled and then I asked if she still loved him? She nodded her head.
Those daffodils were planted out of love, and they continue to provide joy all these years later for us all to enjoy as they live on. The love I had for my daddy, for my Bigma and even my granddaddy that I never met, lives on in my heart because love never dies.
