Today is Valentine’s Day, and I’m feeling romantic. But since my heart doesn’t beat (and thus can’t skip a beat), I find myself reflecting on the true nature of love.
I suppose it’s all of the heart-shaped paraphernalia and merchandise being pushed on the living by zombie-like supermarket workers; but this Valentine’s Day just doesn’t feel the same now that I’m the walking (and blogging) dead.
I took Brenda this weekend to see that new romantic comedy, Warm Bodies, and she walked out half way through because of the guts and gore. But I thought at least here’s Hollywood trying to make an effort, showing us undead as having feelings and emotions (unlike the mindless hoards in that upcoming WWZ film…I’m looking at your Brad Pitt!).
This morning, after a long walk through the local graveyard (what little David now calls, “Daddy’s other bedroom”), I picked up some flowers that no one will miss and came home to make my beloved Brenda a cooked breakfast in bed.
She may be disgusted by me, sometimes physically ill at the mere sight of my flesh peeling off in the shower (I can recommend Mr. Muscle to unblock rotting skin from the drain…and no, I’m not being paid for that endorsement), and gets cross when I leave the loo seat up, but that’s just marriage.
We’re in it together, sickness and health, and I’m pretty sure “life or death” was part of the ceremony too.
I still love you Brenda with all of my decomposing heart.