February is often celebrated as the month of love. Hearts, flowers, chocolates, and romantic gestures take centre stage. But love is far bigger than romance alone. Love shows up in how we relate to family, friends, coworkers, and even the way we serve our communities. Understanding this broader definition of love, and how we give and receive it, can be life-changing.

Learning about the five love languages is some of the most valuable self-knowledge any of us can gain. When we understand our own love language, and the love languages of those around us, life becomes easier, less stressful, and far more peaceful. It helps us understand what fills us up, and what quietly drains us. That’s where my story about lasagna comes in.

I love giving. Gift-giving and acts of service come naturally to me, and my life’s work is deeply rooted in serving others. For years, I told myself that I didn’t need anything in return. Working with people living with dementia, many of whom have had their voices silenced by illness, has taught me not to expect gratitude. I give because service brings me joy.

What I didn’t fully realize for many years, however, is that one of my love languages is affirmation. Spoken or unspoken, conscious or unconscious, affirmation matters to me more than I ever admitted. I may not need material things, but feeling seen and appreciated fuels my spirit.

For decades, I made lasagna for every workplace celebration at Alexis Lodge. I’m not even much of a pasta lover, yet my lasagna became legendary. Staff looked forward to it. Guests raved about it. Even a couple of my Italian friends—native Italians, no less, complimented it. I was especially proud when people noticed the little kick in it, thanks to my African roots and my love for a bit of hot pepper.

Then, suddenly, I stopped.

For the past several years, I haven’t been able to bring myself to make lasagna at all. No interest. No motivation. Staff would gently prod me, saying, “We haven’t seen lasagna in a while.” But I didn’t have an answer as to why I had stopped making it, I only knew I couldn’t go back to it.

With time and reflection, I’ve come to understand what happened. When someone’s love language is affirmation, the shadow side appears when effort feels unacknowledged. Even when giving is done freely and joyfully, a perceived lack of appreciation—whether real or imagined—can quietly shut the door. That door has stayed closed for me, and I honestly don’t yet know how to reopen it.

Knowing our love languages matters. It helps us communicate what brings us joy and what hurts us. Quality time, for example, is another powerful love language, yet in today’s world, it’s often stolen by phones, screens, and distractions. Even when we gather, we’re not always truly present. Perhaps this month of love can be a reminder to give our undivided attention to one another.

Touch is another love language, deeply human, deeply needed, and also one that requires great respect. Whether through a hug, a kind word, or what I once called a “telephone hug,” we can reach people who are lonely, isolated, caregiving, or quietly struggling, especially the elderly and those affected by dementia.

This Valentine’s season, let love be a renewal of our humanity. Let us affirm one another, show up with intention, and offer encouragement freely. And perhaps, one day, I’ll find my way back to that lasagna—having made peace with both the light and the shadow of my own love language.

Until then, I wish you love in all its forms, romantic, relational, and human. Blessings.