The Sun (San Bernardino)

Continuing a heart-shaped Valentine's tradition

- Email Patricia Bunin at patriciabu­nin@sbcglobal.net. Follow her on Twitter @PatriciaBu­nin and at PatriciaBu­nin.com.

My heart murmurs softly as I order Valentine’s candy. The list is shorter now. Three boxes go to heaven, and I thank See’s for not charging any shipping fees. I wonder if my mother still hides her candy.

“I have to hide it from myself, so I won’t eat it all at once,” Mom, gone five years, would say every year.

“Please just send me a very small box,” pleaded daughter Sara, who inherited her grandmothe­r’s sweet tooth. But George wasn’t having it. He was the Santa Claus of Valentine’s candy. If you were in his orbit, expect a big red satin box to be delivered. He declared it a national day off-diet.

Every year, he got out his list to call See’s and place his order. His mom. My mom. His sister. His niece, daughters, and eventually came the most fun of all, the grandchild­ren. “I have a new name to add this year,” he would tell the ordering operator enthusiast­ically after each of the grands came into the world.

Whenever anyone on his list moved, he tracked them down. From college dorm and first apartment to new city or retirement home, his Valentine’s Day candy found its way to their mailbox.

After the 1994 Northridge earthquake, my friend Barbara, whose home suffered considerab­le damage, was staying with us while repairs were underway. She came home from work on Valentine’s Day to find a red box in the guest room. Even after all these years, she still talks about how much George’s thoughtful­ness meant to her.

It is a Jewish tradition, when someone dies, to offer the condolence “May his, or her, memory be a blessing.” Even though I’ve heard it and said it most of my life, only in recent years have I understood the real meaning of the words as they speak to me.

When I begin a sentence with “as George would say …” (or Mom or one of the Squares), I am acknowledg­ing that their worth and wisdom continue.

“Hi. Simply hi,” George would greet me when he walked into the house, filling it with warmth and light. I am honored to carry on my late husband‘s memory in heart-shaped boxes.

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