My Nonna spent 63 Valentine’s Days without a husband. Widowed at 29. A lifetime of February 14ths where no one brought her roses, no one set a table for two, no one whispered ti amo in the dark. And yet… she never became bitter. She never spoke about what she lost with resentment. She spoke about it with reverence. “I didn’t get a long time with him,” she would say, “but I’m grateful for the time that I did.” That was her secret. Love was never possession to her. It was appreciation. She taught