A Valentines Day to Remember

Since 1992, Valentine’s Day has held a different meaning to me. It was the day that we laid our mother to rest; the day that we celebrated her life and returned her body to the earth. It was a day that I will never forget.

While it was very difficult to think about burying your mother on Valentine’s Day, it ended up being the perfect day to honor her. She was killed on Monday February 10, 1992 in an automobile accident. That Friday was Valentine’s Day and it was chosen for the day of the funeral. It was also the 40th anniversary of the day that my father had proposed to her.

The first thing that comes to mind about this day was the roses. My mother had a deep devotion to St. Therese of Lisieux. St. Therese was known for sending a rose or the scent of a rose after the completion of a novena. My mother had several amazing "rose" stories after her novenas. Therefore it was only appropriate that she would have a "shower of roses" for her last Valentine’s Day. The only problem was that it was just days before Valentine’s Day and we were asking the florist for roses. Mary Fasso of Gonsalves-Fasso Florist had known my mom and promised that she would do what she could to make sure my mom got roses.

I was at the funeral home with my brothers and sisters when they brought the spray of roses for the casket. We were all amazed. It was the most beautiful arrangement that I had ever seen! There were so many red roses that it almost covered the whole casket. It was her shower of roses from heaven! It was such a beautiful tribute, one of the last gifts my father could give her, and it was fit for a queen. It was exactly what she deserved.

Another memory that stands out is the large Valentine card that her grandchildren made for her. On an easel amongst all the flowers was this very large homemade valentine that said "Happy Valentine’s Day Nanny" It was designed and signed by all her grandchildren. At that time there were only four now she has twelve.

When we went to enter the church and the doors in the back were swung open, there at the altar were six priests. All there to participate in the celebration of mass. My father's knees buckled. To have that many priests come to celebrate the funeral mass of a lay woman was another tribute to my mother and her faith. Each of these priests came for reasons of their own. It was mainly because they had known my mother and wanted to be there to celebrate her life.

I also remember that I had never in my life seen the church as full as it was. There were people in church that had probably never set foot in a Catholic church before. There were people from every aspect of my mother's life. Her family, friends, co-workers, students and others that wanted to be there to celebrate who she was. Afterwards it was nice talking to so many people who had loved and respected her, just as we had.

When the services were over at the cemetery, my father had told the priest to tell everyone that they could take one of the roses off the casket as a Valentine gift. There were enough for everyone that went to get one. It reminded me of the parable of the fish and loaves of bread, those roses just kept multiplying. It was a beautiful thing to see all the roses that had been laid at the grave sites of their loved ones.

This experience has shaped how I feel about Valentine’s Day. It is in a way a bittersweet day. It was one of the best and worst days of my life. It is a day that will never be forgotten. My nephew Zach, who at the time was only about four years old, summed it up. We were in the limousine on our way to the hall and he said, "I miss Nanny. I sure wish she could have been with us." I know that she was with us and was smiling down at us from heaven.