"This afternoon, we buried my father. I didn't think I would, but I shed tears. I cried because he had worked too hard for too long for too little. For many years I had resented him because he had never told me he loved me; now I wept because I'd never told him."
-Burt Prelutsky, columnist (in Sons On Fathers by Ralph Keyes, 1992)
Relationships have always intrigued me, but none more than those between fathers and sons. As a child, I feared my dad, for he was a stern disciplinarian, and most of the communication that occurred between us was from him to me, not me to him. I felt he loved me, but I never heard him say he did.
Despite his strictness during my childhood, as I grew older I realized more and more how much he meant to me, but I never found the time or place to express my affection for him. It was something that always bugged me, but I had decided it was the way things were, so I made no effort to discuss it with him.
Then one morning I got a call. It was my brother. He told me that Pop had suffered a serious heart attack, and I should come home as soon as possible. His doctors feared he wouldn't make it through the night. I remember praying that I wouldn't be too late, for I knew this was the moment I had to put what was in my heart into words.
I arrived late that night, got to the hospital, and stood by his bed. As I watched him, I felt my resolve to reveal my love for him waning. Somehow, realizing I might not have another chance, I screwed up my courage, grabbed his hand and said, "Pop, you need to know I love you."
I could tell he didn't quite know how to respond, but he squeezed my hand in return and answered weakly, "Me too." He lived four more years, and in all our subsequent encounters he always responded to my "I love you, Pop" with his "Me too."
I've often thought back to the times we spent together and wondered if the two of us were the only father and son who had trouble expressing how we felt toward each other. I've come to believe we weren't.
It doesn't have to be that way, of course, but too often I think it is. As I bring this post to a close, I wonder if there's a son out there who's never told his dad how much he loves him, and wants to. I hope he will. Dad's response may only be a "Me too," but trust me, that will be okay.
7 comments:
Yours words say it perfectly. I too, think about my father and if he ever knew how much I loved him. I may not be a son, but the words apply.
Your entry is very touching. I am one of 5 daughters and I told my Daddy that I loved him all the time. He never said those words back to me that I can remember. But he always said, "Me too" every time:) I didn't need for him to say the words.....he showed his constantly. I was sooo fortunate to have him!
That was really nice. I am glad that you had more time with your father after you told him that you loved him. My dad is 83 and in pretty good health, but I know that I won't have him always.
My Dad was like yours. He did the talking and we kids did the listening. I'm a daughter and my Dad and I didn't share those words until I was nearly nineteen years old and living on my own. I don't remember who said it first, but from that day on we never ended a phone call or a visit without saying it. He left this world unexpectedly a year ago and I'm thankful that "I love you" were the last words we said to each other.
You moved me very deeply with this entry. My father died when I was 15, my mother when I was in my late 30's. I was adopted, and never heard the words I love you or showed much love either. I see my son and husband together and it makes me sad sometimes that they aren't closer than I feel they should be, and try to encourage them to express their feelings openly toward each other. Thank you for sharing your feelings with us, it must have been difficult to re-live.
Great site and heart touching story.
Thank God my Mom and Dad are still alive but I still understand the hurt.
I lost my older sister five years ago to breast cancer and I watched as
my Mom and Dad couldn't understand how their daughter could die before them.
Life is too short. Never forget to tell someone how you fell about them.
Thanks
Bill
What a touching story. Thanks for sharing it and reminding us of the pain of loosing a loved one. I've heard so many people say they wish they had told someone they loved something before they died. I haven't been in that position yet, but I don't want to hear that echo on the deathbed of someone I love, so I've been trying to say those words often to the loved ones in my family.
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