Mike was a romantic guy.
My husband’s gestures of love were big and small. He slipped them in seamlessly throughout our days. He did it with a word, a look, a touch.
I was loved. He made that clear.
On Valentine’s Day two years ago, he bought me a book of vintage Valentines. He wrote on all 36 cards. It was the story of our love. His messages were poignant, sweet, romantic, and even a bit goofy. The notes are snapshots of our life together. (For anyone currently in love, I recommend this idea. Please steal it. Make someone happy.)
The following year, I copied his vintage Valentines move.
This Valentine’s Day, I obviously wasn’t expecting a gesture of love from my dead husband.
But I was wrong.
Three months before his death he sat on the floor in our closet. He culled paper work from our filing cabinet, tossing out old files, taxes and letters.
A few days ago, I was going though the cabinet looking for nothing in particular. I randomly grabbed a folder. Inside was a document titled ‘The Thing.’
Mike was an avid list maker. He wrote lists for everything; long and short term goals; places he wanted to see; his favourite meals, movies and books; and so on. And on. And on.
‘The Thing’ was his step-by-step plan detailing how he would propose to me. He came up with two options: a New Year’s Eve proposal over dinner; or popping the question at Winnipeg’s English Garden, our favourite spot.
He went with option B. He asked me in the garden on his 44th birthday. He produced his great-grandmother’s engagement ring. Later, he had chilled champagne waiting for us inside our room at the Fort Garry Hotel.
Back in the closet, I scanned the note. Joy washed over me. Sadness came next. And then a rush of love for my dear love.
He left the note for me to find after he died.
And I found it one week before Valentine’s Day.
When I need Mike the most, when I need to feel his love around me, he sends me a sign. ‘The Thing’ is his sign.
The universe is on my side.
And Mike is still on my side.
I know it. I feel it. And with this note, I see it.
The Big Diseasey 
what a beautiful story, I am so glad that you have these beautiful memories. Do you remember the poet William Blake, when he lay dying he told his wife that he would be with her always watching over her, Mike is doing the same for you
I love that. I totally understand … I’m pretty sure I won’t find a note in my closet BUT I did hear one of the songs that was played at Ben’s funeral while I was throwing a temper tantrum in the bank. So that was nice. I’m hoping that at least one of my kids will want to hang out with me on V Day. I hope you have nice date with your son – a little piece of Mike.