Remembering My Granddaughter This Valentine's Day

Tuesday, February 14th ... Valentine's Day is here.  It's not a big, spend-a-lot-of-money-on-your-sweetheart kind of day for us, but rather a day my family exchanges small tokens of our love and appreciation for one another.  Even though I won't see any of my grandchildren today, I've been planning their little gifts for weeks. 

And, thank goodness there has been something 'happy' to keep me going.

The past week has been filled with sadness: news of a niece and her family living in unsafe conditions; a good friend whose adult child has been diagnosed with incurable cancer; a favorite volunteer ministry possibly being restructured.  The most difficult dealing I've had over the past ten days, however, has been turning on the local news and seeing images of cars fallen through the ice on area lakes. 

It started last weekend, when temperatures were warm, ice on lakes thinned and two cars broke through Lake Minnetonka, the lake in which Kitty drowned.  Every day since, there are either stories of yet another vehicle under water, updates on those already reported or interviews with the local sheriff about the dangers of driving on thin ice.  It's a hot topic this time of year and it's so very hard to watch.  Every time a new incident is shown, I become paralyzed in front of the TV, waiting to hear whether or not everyone escaped their vehicles safely,

Without a doubt, I've thought about my little Kitty Rose in a sad kind of way for more than a week.  It's been really hard.  We hear and talk about setbacks on our grief journeys and sure enough, I've just gone through a rough one.  It's not like it couldn't be anticipated - it's going to happen every year.  Winter arrives, lakes freeze over and people drive across a lake for whatever reason ... to cast a line for fish, as an alternate route to the slow, winding road or, as in our case,  simply because they can - it would be fun.  But, for some reason, I'm having a more difficult time handling this now than I've had in the past.

Thus, my challenge:  how do I turn myself around and get back on the path toward healing and to finding comfort?

On Sunday, I went to the cemetery, took down Kitty's Christmas wreath and replaced it with a large red foil heart, her musical 'twinkle' star and a couple of small floral heart picks.  I thought that would make me feel like I was doing something special for her on Valentine's Day.  It didn't do the trick.  My other grands are getting great big, heart-shaped, frosted, homemade sugar cookies.  I don't know why, but not baking one for Kitty makes me feel like I haven't done quite enough for her.

Before I was out of bed this morning, my phone rang.  I didn't understand the name spoken on the caller ID, so I chose to listen to a message later rather than to answer the phone in a drowsy state.  A substitute adorer is needed at 10:00 tonight at the adoration chapel of my former parish.  My initial reaction was to groan.  Tuesdays are my day to just be at home, to not put on make-up or fix my hair, to wear comfy, unattractive clothes all day, to catch up and recoup.

It didn't take long, however, to realize that this was a very special gift this Valentine's Day.  I have the opportunity to spend an hour with Jesus in prayer ... prayer for my need of healing and comfort ... prayer for Kitty and the repose of her beautiful little soul ... prayer for my niece and her family .... prayer for my friend whose daughter is dying of cancer ... prayer for continued volunteerism that best serves my parish.  I can do this for myself, for those I love and for Kitty.

I eagerly returned the early morning phone call. 
Happy Valentine's Day!

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