To my husband,

It’s Valentine’s Day, and I have something to tell you. I came home yesterday, and I didn’t tell you about the worst part of my day. I didn’t tell you, because it was so hard to say even once to that daughter yesterday that her father had colon cancer. It was hard to tell her that the reason he had been bleeding for months was because that cancer has been growing inside of him, undetected. When she brought in her father, the first thing she told me was, “I want a full work-up. We need answers. We cannot leave until you have done a full work-up and we have answers. Do everything. We need answers.” I wish what I found wasn’t the answer. I see her face, looking at me, slightly bewildered, in disbelief, as I told her the news that made her world cave in. Her tears followed, and so did mine.

I felt guilty to be able to damper my own emotions by leaving work. By not talking about them. I can make that choice, but she cannot. She will talk about it and talk about it, and continue to break down as she calls and tells her sisters, her mother that is at home, the rest of her family. I told her the news, and her world changed forever. Her dad was my last patient of the day. I saw him at the very end of my shift, and I stayed late to make sure he was taken care of. But that is all I did. Because then I left, and I came home to you. I came home to our beautiful, laughing, loud children, racing in our beautiful home. I came home to their squeals of “Mama!” and their hugs that nearly knock me over. I came home to our healthy, fortunate family.

I told her daughter first. I wanted to prepare her before I told her dad. When I went in to tell her dad, she started to cry. He said, “So, I’m going to surgery. Well. When I go to surgery, then you can go ahead and go home. Now, what are you crying about. There is nothing to cry about.” And this made her cry harder. Because there he was. Her dad at 89. Still her dad. Still taking care of her. He will always be her dad, and whether he is 35 or 89, he will love her with all his might. Sometimes he gets confused, and sometimes he can’t answer my questions because he doesn’t remember when he last ate or if he has been sick, but his love for his daughter—this he will not forget. He has loved her from the moment he met her. This is imprinted in who he is. This is their life together. This is their family.

My mind was wrapped around this family all evening. I came home and breathed in the smells of our 21 month old. I snuggled a little bit longer with our five year olds. I felt the comfort of your love and the way you busy yourself with taking care of me when you sense that I am limping along that last stretch of the day. I am eternally blessed with so much. And left at work, is a family sitting on the edge of those waiting room chairs. Waiting for answers. Hoping for the best, fearing for the worst. I feel thankful. I feel guilt. I feel happiness. I feel sadness.

I know Valentine’s Day is a contrived holiday, but I’ll happily take any reminders in whatever shape and whatever form they come. Today, I remind myself that there are so many people I love so deeply. I am thankful for their health and their presence in my life. Today, I remind myself, that above all else, I have you. You are my forever partner. You are the amazing father to my children.  You are my rock. Many decades from now, we may forget what we ate for lunch, we may forget if that cough was from last week or last month, but we will remember that we love each other. We will never stop taking care of one another. We will never stop putting each other first.

To be honest, I didn’t get you anything for Valentine’s Day, and I truly don’t want anything from you. All I want is time with you. All I want is to spend a day, just you and me. Because that is how all this wonderfully exhausting chaos all started, and at the end of every day, that is all that truly matters to me. Time spent with you. Time spent with our amazing kids. Because sometimes, tomorrow is the day that you hear the news that makes your walls crash. I hope that day is far away, but today, I will cherish what we have, I will love it all, thank my lucky stars, and count down the minutes until I get to see you after my work day.

I didn’t tell you about the worst part of my day yesterday.  I didn’t need that heaviness in my chest to grow heavier.  I just needed to be with my family. I watched you play with our squealing, joyful baby girl as she rolled around the floor with you, and called out, “Mama, look!” as she stood gleefully on your chest, bouncing up and down at your expense, listening to your overemphasized grunts to her jumps put her into fits of giggles.  I couldn’t help but imagine my patient with his daughter and feel comfort that they had had moments just like this one.

There are big things that happen. Big amazing things. Big devastating things. There are little petty things that bring our days down. But my favorite things are the every day mundane things that give us joy. That build our family. Today, I am reminded of this healthy, full life we have. This is our life together. This is our family.

Happy Valentine’s Day. I am thankful that today, we have nothing to cry about. I love you with all my might.