“Did anyone tell you they love you today?” I’m on my way out the door for a long motorcycle ride, saying goodbye to Mom. I ask her this every day.
Just a habit I have. I learned from my grandparents when I was 19 and very, very ill, being told I was loved made a tremendous difference at a difficult time.
My parents were too caught up in their problems to tell us they loved us – I’m sure they did but it wasn’t verbal and there weren’t any hugs, wah-wha-wah. In a past, less-charitable frame of mind I have believed they were both too selfish and self-centered – which has some basis, since they were both “only children,” coddled; their parents did an excellent job indulging and loving us grandkids, though, and well made up for it. A little bit goes a l-o-o-o-n-g way.
“Did anyone tell you they love you today?”
“No, probably not gonna happen.”
“I love you, Mom.”