For 60 years, Carmen Iacono had a particular routine for Valentine’s Day. He would bring an early morning card to his wife, Maria, as she rose from sleep, then return 12 hours later, after a long day of cutting hair, to hand her flowers and a heart-shaped box of candy. If the day fell on a rare evening off from work, the couple might go for dinner at Ristorante Lombardo, a spot they loved.

Otherwise, they would almost certainly end up dancing to Italian music in their Lockport family room, a ritual hardly reserved for Valentine’s Day. “Oh, they would dance at home all the time,” said Josephine Iacono Bussi, their daughter. The Iaconos are determined to honor the meaning of the day, despite their grief.