My Valentine, remembered

The year of our courtship was 1988, 

before home emails, Skype, 

inexpensive international calling, text messaging, 

and all the rest of the advances in communications technology 

that today smooth the way for long distance romances.

We did have email at the global firm where we were employed 

(on different sides of the Atlantic), 

but it was cumbersome and, 

in Gerrit's case, was managed by his secretary.

Before we announced our engagement, 

our courtship was kept secret from our workmates and families.

So we developed a secret code when communicating by business email:

any use of a superlative meant "I love you."

His secretary would send the emails he composed:

"The meeting yesterday with the client was excellent."

And I and the other addressees on the email 

would know that it was an excellent meeting,

but only I would know that Gerrit loved me.

At the time, the Netherlands phone system was a monopoly, 

and the cost of a long distance phone call was about four times the price 

if he called me instead of me calling him. 

So if he wanted to talk, he called and we immediately hung up

so I could call him back.

This was also before the five cent a minute international calls,

so it was still a very expensive communications tool.

But oh so appreciated.

Letter writing comprised much of our correspondence; 

I'm grateful to be able to hold in my hand all the letters he wrote.

I wrote the post below in 2008, 

four years into Gerrit's diagnosis of vascular dementia

and four and a half years before he died.

I wouldn't wish him another minute of the very compromised life

he had been reduced to, but I miss him very much.

**********************************************

February 14, 2008

Ours was a long distance courtship.
We lived in different countries.

He wrote from wherever he was traveling.

Our phone bills were astronomical.

We wrote to each other a lot.

I looked forward to seeing her smiling face in my mailbox.

Included in the letters was G’s first attempt at a Valentine.
He was on a business trip to Portugal.

“No Valentines to be found anywhere over here,” he wrote.

“Personally I have no experience
with this piece of American culture.”

“I don’t know whether such cards should be
funny or romantic or what?”

“I hope that you will forgive me sending you
most probably
the most misplaced Valentine card ever,
but remember it comes straight from my heart.”

How could I resist?