Valentine’s Day Reflections: Celebrating Unconditional Love with My Mom

Valentine’s Day often conjures up images of roses, chocolates, and romantic dinners. But beyond the couples and candlelight, the holiday at its core is about something even deeper: love in its purest form. For me, this year, that love isn’t about romance—it’s about honoring the woman who has always been my greatest cheerleader, my constant companion, and the one who taught me the true meaning of unconditional love: my mom.

Every Valentine’s Day, my mom and I had a tradition. We would exchange cards. It was simple, heartfelt, and—if I’m being honest—sometimes I’d roll my eyes. Not because I didn’t care, but because that’s what sons do. Yet deep down, I cherished those moments more than I ever let on.

I think about those cards now, the way her handwriting curved, the way her words always carried more weight than she probably realized. They weren’t just Valentine’s greetings; they were reminders of her constant presence in my life. They were quiet affirmations that no matter where I was, no matter what I was doing, her love traveled with me.

This year, Valentine’s Day looks different. My mom is in the hospital, battling sepsis on top of her already challenging fight with brain cancer. She can’t eat the chocolates I brought her. She isn’t strong enough to laugh or fuss the way she used to. But still, I showed up with balloons, a card for both of us, and chocolates—because tradition matters, and love deserves to be celebrated even when circumstances are hard.

Sitting by her hospital bed, I realize these are the moments that define life. Not the big milestones, but the quiet, fragile hours where you hold someone’s hand and simply cherish the fact that they’re here. This might be our last Valentine’s Day together. And if it is, I want it to be filled with love, gratitude, and memory.

My mother has always been more than a parent. She has been the foundation of my creative life. She was the one who encouraged me to pursue a career that allowed me to see the world, to stretch my imagination, to chase the impossible. She believed in me when others might have doubted. She wanted me to live boldly, to live freely, and to live fully.

Because of her, I’ve lived in seven states. I’ve moved more times than I can count. Each new city wasn’t just my adventure—it was our adventure. Wherever I went, she came too. Sometimes physically, flying out to visit me. Other times emotionally, through calls, letters, or those Valentine’s cards. Together, we shared so many cities, so many experiences, so much life.

When my mom became ill with brain cancer, the adventures we once shared shifted. She couldn’t fly across the country anymore. She couldn’t join me in new cities or walk through crowded streets with curiosity and wonder. The illness slowed her body, but it never touched her spirit.

So, I decided to create adventures for her. Stories, calls, pictures, little things to keep her imagination alive. If she couldn’t physically travel, I would bring the world to her in every way I could. Because that’s what she did for me—she gave me the world. It only felt right to return the gift.

This Valentine’s Day, I am reminded of something essential: the people who truly love us are not always our partners, but often our parents. A mother’s love is unlike any other. It’s unconditional. It’s fierce. It’s forgiving. It’s everlasting.

My mom has been my Valentine since day one. She has been the one who celebrated my victories, comforted my failures, and inspired my courage. She has been my safe place, my sounding board, and my biggest supporter.

Even now, as she lies in a hospital bed, she is still teaching me about love. Love that shows up even when it’s hard. Love that endures even when the body doesn’t. Love that stays with you long after the person is gone.

It’s easy to get lost in the chaos of life, to take traditions for granted, to assume there will always be another Valentine’s Day, another card, another laugh. But the truth is, none of us know how much time we have.

This year, Valentine’s Day is not about fancy dinners or grand gestures. It’s about a hospital room filled with balloons, a card signed with shaky hands, and chocolates that will never be eaten. It’s about sitting quietly beside the person who gave me everything and choosing to celebrate love in its most real, unpolished, sacred form.

If you’re reading this, I want you to pause and think about the person who has been your biggest cheerleader. Maybe it’s your mom. Maybe it’s a father, grandparent, sibling, or friend. Whoever they are, don’t let this Valentine’s Day pass without telling them what they mean to you.

We often assume they know. We assume love doesn’t need to be spoken. But it does. Because one day, you’ll look back and realize those cards, those moments, those seemingly small traditions were actually the biggest treasures of all.

Closing Thoughts

My mom is my Valentine this year and every year. She always has been. She always will be. She gave me the courage to chase my dreams, the freedom to see the world, and the love that continues to shape me even now.

This Valentine’s Day, remember who truly loves you the most. Remember the person who stood beside you through every move, every risk, every dream. For me, that’s my mom. She is my Valentine, my cheerleader, my compass.

And though this holiday may be bittersweet, it is still beautiful—because it is filled with love.