“After all these years I can finally say it: “I love you.”
Beloved Teovo,
After all these years I can finally say it, “I love you.” The first time we met, such a long time ago, you stood by my side, brown hair, blue eyes, big smile—and then we danced. Oh, how we danced! What happiness!
Your brown corduroy jacket, so soft against my skin. Even in our friendly, sometimes noisy group, I felt a warm togetherness with you. I do not remember the food, only you and I dancing, dancing.
Next day, we walked on the grassy slopes of the Citadel, hand in hand, talking, laughing and looking into one another’s eyes. Midsummer flowers, daisies and blue bells beneath our feet. Then by boat we went, sun’s rays glittering on the water, shimmering sky and shimmer in your eyes. People, as in a dream, waved to us from the shore.
That unforgettable camping trip, sausages roasting, lots of smoke, lots of laughter, and sweet songs around the camp fire. Too soon we were ordered into our tents, boys in one, girls in another. So young and so in love, but in those years, so obedient.
One more evening, one more dance, but now for the last time. In the morning you gave me red roses and said goodbye. I waved to you from the ship. Was the light shimmering? Was the sun dancing on the water? I didn’t notice through my tears, I saw only you.
Next time we all met, it was to celebrate your wedding to another, and I had never said, “I love you.”
Swee Futrell
Published in March, 1995 in Monarch Newsletter – Kerrisdale Seniors’ Centre.
Lester’s Army received a love letter in the mail from 86-year-old Swee Futrell. Intrigued, I called her to find out more. She offered to meet with me to talk about her faith in love and the story behind her Valentine That Never Was.
Swee began by giving me a guided tour of her apartment, taking me through her Matisse-inspired bedroom with a letter-writing desk and poster of Zorro on the wall. As she prepared the Earl Grey, I looked through her bustling bookcase. Behind souvenirs and stuffed animals were a myriad of books from Swedish fairly tales to classic novels. Swee pulled out one book – Love Letters: An Anthology of Passion and told me it gave her the inspiration to write her own. We sat at her dining room table, me next to a lava lamp, Swee sitting below a Chinese paper umbrella pinned to the wall. She gave me the “Mexican Plate” for my tea and biscuits. Clearing her throat and pouring the tea, she told me of her love of storytelling. She tells me it is easiest to write about things she is passionate about and this story of the Valentine That Never Was has stayed with her for 60 years.
The story begins in Sweden when Swee was in her early 20’s. She was part of a hiking group that had arranged an exchange with another group in Finland. Four girls travelled over to Helsinki to go hiking with the other group. It was at this meeting that Swee met Teovo, the object of her affections. The attraction was quite natural, she explained, it just clicked at once, he took her hand and they walked together. This was 1947, two years after World War II had ended and Finland was suffering badly as a result. Nevertheless, the hosts arranged camping, dinners and dancing at hotels. Swee described herself as playful and fun-loving so it is easy to picture her dancing the night away with new-found friends. Though everyone in the group attended the events, Swee and Teovo spent most of the time in each other’s company. At the end of the exchange they returned to their respective countries, the romance over in person but lasting in memory.
Shortly after the trip, Swee moved to London, England, to become an au pair. It was only through correspondence with a mutual friend that she found out that Teovo was due to get married. Swee used the opportunity to catch up with old friends so flew over for the wedding. She hardly remembers any details from the night, just that she tried to keep up appearances but secretly felt awful. Swee never told anybody that she was upset about Teovo getting married and friends didn’t really know about their romance. Though the two lived countries apart they stayed in touch via letter, phone calls and a genuine interest in one another’s life. There was never talk of a relationship and I was curious about why they never ended up together. Swee told me:
“I can only guess it was because I didn’t consider it anything serious. I wasn’t interested in more than having fun. That’s why I was surprised that he was getting married. We never talked about marriage or children or anything. Things could have gone differently if we had been more serious, if we would have visited one another. But I just took off and went to work in London as an au pair. When you are young you are nonchalant, you don’t appreciate things. I thought I would meet plenty of guys and have fun. It’s not until after that you start reflecting and looking at things in a different way and think that it could have been a possibility. Hindsight is so easy.”
In 1954, a decade after the trip to Finland, Swee and a friend decided to hitchhike across Europe. When they reached Spain her friend got homesick and returned to Sweden but Swee decided to persevere as she wanted to see Cordoba. It was there that she met an Englishman on holiday and fell in love. They dated and visited one another in their home countries for a while until 1956 when Swee moved to England to marry him. After living in Nottingham for ten years and raising two children, they moved to Vancouver for her husband’s job (as a university lecturer). Swee remained creative through crocheting and exhibiting her work with other artists. Writing was always a big part of her life. Living away from home from such a young age meant that her letter writing was a frequent practice and a finely tuned skill. She also loved creative writing and storytelling so she attended workshops to keep her passion alive.
In the mid 70s Swee and her husband divorced after twenty-one years of marriage. Some years later she found a writing class that inspired her to think back on her life. Her thoughts returned to Teovo and she wrote the valentine letter to express her feelings. The intention was to send the note to Teovo when his wife died, but sadly, he was the first to go.
“I was surprised when he died because my whole plan in writing this was that his wife would die and then I would send the letter. And then he goes and dies! My whole intention was that he would get it one day, or someday, or somehow.”
Despite the unromantic twist to her tale, Swee remains optimistic about romance. Even though times have changed since her youth she insists that love, excitement and heartache are still the same now.
“Nothing has changed in that respect. People change very slowly. We don’t really remember the sad things and we don’t become cynical. You think “oh I’m never going to do that again” and then you find yourself doing exactly that the next minute. We don’t give up.”
