Buying greeting cards used to be just a chore. Inevitably I would be rushing to the store at the last minute to get the cards that needed to go in the mail to Arizona or Virginia and coordinating so that Steve would be able to sign his name and add his smiley face for the grandkids. Now it’s that as well as an embarrassment.
You don’t see too many people in the card aisle at Wal-Mart with tears running down their cheeks. But I’m once again the exception. I never—or hardly ever—buy the humorous cards. Over the years Steve has learned not to buy them for me even though he started our married life thinking that the funny cards were preferable.
As a writer, I am amazed at the high quality of some of the verses in the Hallmark cards and I generally find one that expresses my sentiment accurately. Guess that means that I don’t really have discerning taste as millions of others must also buy the same cards that I do and find them exactly what they were looking for! Ever since my diagnosis I’m reminded by Hallmark that I am going to die, that at some point I will be leaving behind the people that I love, and that I need to let them know how much I love them while I still have the time.
It’s no different than before my diagnosis, after all, I am a mere mortal the same as everyone else in this world. Except it’s real now. I know that I am going to die and so every word that I share with my loved ones needs to ring true.
What if I never have another birthday or Father’s Day or anniversary to tell them how I truly feel? And if that is what I am trying to do, why don’t I take a blank piece of paper or a blank card and write down my feelings without relying on Hallmark to do it for me? I guess if the tears flow easily in the middle of a store what would it be like if I were to create my own greeting card in the privacy of my home?
Karen Whalen 