February 14 is well-known and celebrated, mostly by Hallmark, florists, and restaurant owners, as the love holiday. Since when do we need a holiday to celebrate love? Maybe it’s because the word love is exhausted. We love our new dress with pockets, we love our shampoo, we love our dog or cat or gerbil, we love our lawn mower, and we love a good steak. Then we say “I love you” to our kids, mom, dad, husband, wife, sister, brother, etc. Does that seem right to you? Is that why we like having a special day to celebrate romantic love, to separate it from the other types of love?
While I love language (see what I did there?), this is one of my frustrations with the English language. Can we not come up with a different word for the different types of love? Will someone take that on for me, please?
Meanwhile, we need to show our love rather than use a specific word for each type or designate a special day. Wash that dress in cold water, tell your friends how great your shampoo is, pamper your pet, maintain your mower, and savor that steak. For those people we love, we should focus on showing them as much, if not more, than telling them.
When I was at the death bed of my brother, sister, father, and then mother thought over my time with them and wondered if they knew how much I loved them. Had I said it often enough and shown it in my actions? I never once tried to simply count how many times I had “I love you.” Those words would be empty unless there is evidence of their meaning in my actions. Don’t misunderstand; genuinely saying “I love you” is important. But wait! There’s more.
When my father was in his last hours, I sat in his room with my mother and husband, waiting, watching, and doing everything possible to make his last day comfortable for him while savoring his presence. His breathing was labored, but his sense of humor was intact. One of my last interactions with him was trying to adjust his pillow; he was witty and made me chuckle. The hours in that room crept by, and I battled the dichotomy of his life being over already and his transition from earth to heaven was taking so long. His stubbornness was his trademark, and it was in fine form that day as he lingered longer than expected.
My nephew, his wife, and their two children stopped by, which brought a welcomed distraction. The children were subdued by the atmosphere and sat quietly. My nephew spent a few minutes with my dad and then took his place in the room, keeping the children quiet. After several minutes, I witnessed a profound and insightful act of love. Michael had spent a lot of time with his grandpa and knew what was important to the old man. As a result of years loving, arguing, and laughing with his grandpa, my nephew left his chair, stood by my dad’s bedside, and said, “Grandpa. We love you, but it’s okay to go. Don’t worry about Grandma. We will take good care of her.”
He returned to his seat, the children began arguing, and everyone’s attention was drawn to them. I briefly glanced at the commotion, then back to my dad who had chosen that moment to make his departure. With the music of his favorite song of children’s voices and the reassurance that his bride of 66 years was in good hands, he breathed his last. I am convinced he knew he was loved despite his extreme stubbornness.
If you know me very well, you know that I did NOT receive any of that stubbornness. I will wait a few minutes until you are done rolling your eyes.
My father’s physical body stopped living with that the completion of that last breath; however, he remains with us to this day. Besides a few of his personality and physical traits I inherited, thanks to genes, I also received the positive and negative impacts of the way he lived his life that shaped my life and influenced my choices.
As I grow older, I think about what I will have left my children, grandchildren, friends, co-workers, and students. I hope that even when they remember my blunders, none of which have anything to do with stubbornness, they will never doubt my love. If we all focused on creating a legacy of love, the world would be a more peaceful place to live.
February 14 is the designated day to celebrate love, but anything we do in recognition of that day is null and void, empty, meaningless, a sham if we don’t live lives of love the other 364 days of the year.
