Say it twice…

I was in my place, seated on my silent pew.  The minister was offering his weekly sermon and I was reading along on an iPad (he had emailed me the sermon in advance so that the deaf guy might follow along.)  The subject was love and he referenced this passage from a Mitch Albom classic:

Say it once so you mean it.  Say it twice so you never forget. 
I love you!
(Adapted from ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’)

A powerful sermon, enough so that I copied his line from the text and saved it in my notes on my iPad. Sharing those words…

Once so you mean it.  

And twice so you never forget…

I love you!

I filed the passage away for future consideration.

This calendar year has been a series of challenges.  I have repeated this phrase:

I cannot believe that we are only four months into this year because…

Followed by the latest event (except that you could substitute one of these: three weeks, two months, ten weeks, twelve weeks, etc. for four months) because it seems that this year has been a repeating series of unfortunate events.  And thus, I have restated that line with the latest timeframe indicated far too often.  It has been a rough year to date.

Recently I stopped in to see a friend at his office.  We had both attended a funeral for a mutual friend the week before and I was still thinking about the service.  I wanted to ask about his thoughts on the eulogy and how well it reflected our friend. As good conversations tend to do, this conversation drifted, and I asked my friend about his parents.  I have known this friend for twenty years or more, but I had never really learned much about his father.

My parents loved me very much, he said, but they rarely said it aloud.  They proved it through their actions, I always felt loved, but they just weren’t the type to say it very often.  My Dad worked lots of evenings and nights so when I was young, I was often in bed by the time he came home. But I have wonderful memories of our time together and the lessons he taught me.

I smiled and said, Did we grow up in the same house and I somehow missed that fact?

My father too, worked many nights and evenings and it was rare for him to tell me he loved me.  However, I can honestly say that I knew I was loved and never really questioned that fact.  Cancer took Dad away too soon, so the opportunity to say I love you has been gone now for nineteen years.  I suspect that since my friend and I are approximately the same age, then likely our dads would have been around the same age too.  Perhaps it was common in depression era children to grow up without sharing those words or perhaps it’s just a coincidence.

Not long after that meeting, one of my uncles passed away.  I corresponded with my cousins, and I received notes from each of them reflecting on wonderful memories of their time with their father.  Later, I thought of my conversation about dads that grew up in the depression era and I wondered about their experiences, but I did not raise the subject.

So, to my cousins I can offer these words.  I hope that your lives were filled with the sound of your father telling you I love you.  But if they were not, know that in the days ahead you will have time to recall the multitude of times that he proved he loved you and you will always have those memories to cherish.

My thoughts go to my daughter and son-in-law and how they tell (and show) Teddy that he is loved many times every day.  Times have changed but the love of parents for their children is a constant and that makes me smile.

A couple of weeks ago; I was having breakfast with some longtime (more than fifty years) friends.  We were wrapping up the meal and one of them shared that her intent was to always say goodbye with I love you included.  She explained that should anything happen, then the last words we would have heard from her would be I love you allowing us to always carry her love with us.  While my other friend agreed, I just gave her grief and suggested that she leave us with something witty so that we could always carry a laugh with us.  They rolled their eyes, told me goodbye, and that they loved me.

To my breakfast friends, and my cousins, and to my minister friend, and to all of you who are kind enough to read my reflections, I have been considering these things and I would like to leave you with this:

I’ll say it once, so you’ll know I mean it and twice, so you won’t forget. 

I love you! I love you! 

Because love is what gets us through the rough days, and weeks, and months and gives us hope for a better tomorrow.

Thanks for listening!

Your friend,

KBM

Kevin Medlin
kevin@mysilentpew.com