Reflections ►
The Things We ( Should ) Do For Love
by Dolores Halbin , contributing writer
s February arrives and we approach Valentine ’ s Day , the day for lovers , my mood gets a little darker every day .
Allow me to be a sour grape for a minute . Being around couples this year has made me sad and a little mad . I liked being a couple , waking to the smell of the old percolator and him bringing coffee to my bedroom every morning . I miss that . We were Gene and Dolores Halbin for over 40 years . We were unique . We were the only Gene and Dolores Halbin in the world with our names , until we weren ’ t . Somehow , Dolores just feels empty .
According to AI , Americans spend an estimated $ 25.9 billion annually on the perfect Valentine ’ s Day gift . The holiday was initially about cards and love notes . Recently , cards have become second to candy , with flowers coming in third .
According to lore , St . Valentine wrote letters of marital advice from prison while awaiting execution , becoming renowned for his final love letter , written to the jailer ’ s daughter the night before he was executed . He signed the letter , “ Your Valentine .”
I got to thinking , that could have been me ! Had I gotten the maximum for a Class B Felony Cultivation , 5-15 years , instead of time served , I could still be in prison until 2031 .
What sort of relationship advice would Mrs . Valentine , a professional widow , write in a letter from prison ? Oh , where do I begin ?
Gene
First , everyone with a partner , STOP — Stop and take a few minutes to look full circle at your life . Get the flowers , candy , and cards . Everyone loves them , and the economy obviously needs them , but think about this : “ What would happen if I never made it home today ? A car wreck , a heart attack , or a random tree fell on me — what would that be like for my lover ?”
I am not talking about a broken heart . We all get that equally . I am asking you to look at your life , your home , your garage , your damn basement .
Gene and I built our cabin out in the country . Our only neighbors for miles were two amazing couples — the best and often most entertaining neighbors you could ask for ! The forest divided us , so we couldn ’ t see each other but could hear each other clearly . When any of the three of us were having a fight night , the other two couples could open a beer , sit on our decks , and laugh at the entertainment .
After my husband died , the strings of obscenities that came flowing out of my one-sided fight on my side of the forest must have been disturbing .
It ’ s true , though , I cussed my husband more , louder , and harder in the weeks after he died than I had in the 40 years I was married to him . He left me his basement mess .
He kept his garden side of the basement immaculate , but the tool side , the side I had to navigate to do laundry or , God forbid , actually need a tool , was a ginormous mess . It was the kind of mess Dr . Seuss wrote about in The Cat in the Hat . “ And this mess is so big and so deep and so tall , we cannot pick it up . There is no way at all .”
I had complained about the basement for some time , even offering to help , when he jokingly said , “ I ’ m just going to die and leave that mess with you .” Then , he did . His loss left me in a world of hurt . Again , not talking about heartbreak . I ’ m talking about what we are left to deal with while having a broken heart in our chest .
I regret selling our home every day , but between legal , medical , etc ., I was left alone and in deep debt . I had to sell . And to do that , I had to clean his basement . And I was furious . 46 February 2025