Between now and when I turn 60, one of the new leaves I'm turning over is the saying of "I love you" to the people I actually feel that way about. I am not now and have never been an easy "I love you" communicator. Perhaps it goes back to that day long ago when my high school boyfriend Craig (who no longer remembers me or so he claims) sat next to me on the steps going from his parents' kitchen to the basement (how lovely and romantic) and leaned in after a kiss and said quietly, "I love you."
And, I leaned in equally quietly and said, "Thanks."
Well, I didn't love him and I didn't want to lie to him because I really, really, liked and respected him. Also, I was polite and "thanks" was the first genuine, non-insulting thing that came to my mind. The first thing that came to mind was "Oh, crap." But, that didn't seem appropriate.
Fast forward a mere many years and here I am, still not someone who says "I love you" easily to anyone who isn't my husband or my child. Maybe it's not the legacy of Craig that holds me back. Maybe it's the legacy of my parents who most certainly loved me but I'm not sure they ever said so. When my dad was dying of lung cancer, I launched into a long dissertation of love just after the doctor told us his prognosis. I told him in the most misty and loving terms what a wonderful father, grandfather, and man he was in his quiet and understated way. I assured him that the legacy he'd leave behind was nothing short of stunning. I went on for 10 minutes waxing poetic with the words I had never before spoken. I leaned in and gave him a rare kiss.
He leaned in and said quietly, "Do you have a key to my safe deposit box?"
So, if I'm a dysfunctional "I love you" person, you can see that I come by it naturally. But that moment of waiting to hear "I love you" from Dad taught me a valuable lesson... or two. First, you don't have to hear "I love you" in order to know you are loved. I know my Dad was crazy about me and my kids and husband. Two, it's nice to hear anyway and it's a gift you can give the people you love. It feels good every time.
But, a few years ago, Ned and I made some new friends in our new-ish hometown in North Carolina. When we left them at the end of a social event, we'd say goodnight or goodbye and they'd say, "Love you." It caught us off guard at first. Maybe we said, "Thanks" even, but I'm not sure. But after a while I realized these folks weren't just saying "Goodbye" with that expression. They actually were telling their friends how they felt about them. It was genuine and quite moving.
So, I stepped a toe into that strange water and started saying "I love you" to my friends when I left. I started with one of my oldest and dearest and then moved into my newer and dearest. It felt awkward at first but now it's growing on me. The first person I said it to was my friend C. (she may prefer being anonymous here) who was going through a really tough time. When we parted on our regular Tuesday get-together, I said, "Love you" and she said the same. It felt comforting. It seemed the exact right last thing to say so that would be the thought and feeling we'd take with us at the end of the evening.
I don't know why it took me almost 60 years to embrace this phrase but between now and December I'm going to use it often.
