Love Transcends...Sometimes

I loved my father. He was a fine man in many respects and he did a lot for me and for my brothers and sisters. One thing I don't remember him doing, except once, was telling me he loved me. I think I knew he did love me, but it was something that was, to me, noticeably absent in conversations. His retiscence to say those words is evident in my family even today...or maybe I am imagining it. It's odd, I feel like my dad was a wonderful man and he did care about his kids, but he didn't make it habit of telling us (or, at least, me) that he loved us. I guess he figured we knew it, so why say it. But it still lingers in my mind as something that was missing. The only time I remember him saying he loved us was the day he died.

He was in horrendous pain from his lung cancer, and all of us were so distraught that he hurt so badly. One of my brothers, who had been an Air Force medic, convinced my Dad's doctor that he should prescribe morphine to alleviate the pain my father was feeling. We administered injections of morphine as often as was allowed, trying to minimize the pain he felt. I administered one of his last injections. I remember my Dad saying, "Oh, how I love you kids. I love you. I love you. I love you." That tore me up. I'd never heard him say it out loud before. It meant so much to me, but it hurt me that he was able to say it to me only when he knew he was dying. God, that was a painful moment.

I think now about my brothers and sisters. I don't know the last time I told them I love them. I do, of course, but I don't say it. It's uncomfortable. It's not uncomfortable telling my wife the same thing...why should it be uncomfortable telling my brothers and sisters? I think it boils down to what was expected and acceptable in my parents' lives and what wasn't. I think my Dad's family must have viewed expressions of affection as inappropriate. My Mom's family probably did not look at expressions of affection that way.

It is remarkable that I am talking about this, something still unresolved, at 52 years of age. People should get on with their lives and be over any such familial "issues" long before their 52nd birthday!

I wonder if I am simply succumbing to selective memory? Maybe my Dad said 'I love you' regularly and I simply forgot. If so, that memory is completely erased.

If I can break out of what I think was a prison my Dad lived in, let me say to my brothers and sisters and wife and in-laws and friends who might read this: I love you!