I have been pondering this thought for a while and wanted to
write a few of my feelings on the topic.
What are the three words you ask?
“I love you.” Those three simple
yet powerful words have had a profound impact on my life.
I come from a long line of southern kissers, huggers, and
those that tell each other they love you often.
My siblings, parents, grandparents, children, grandchildren, and even my cousins never fail to
express love to one another. When “love”
is present, there is a beautiful spirit that seems to bring a light to each and
every heart.
But, what if, the last words you say to someone you love are
“I love you?” What if that is the last
thing you were given by someone you love before they departed this Earth? Is that love something that could forever
change you? Is that love something you
were meant to have as a gift? Is it a
gift that would speak to the depths of your soul and lift you from the depths
of grief? Personally, I think love is
the key that unlocks and opens many doors.
Doors of change, compassion, serving, helping, lifting, and the list
goes on.
Back in March of 1996, I received a phone call from a close
friend of my brother Tom. He told me
that Tom had been admitted to the hospital and the doctor told him that Tom
would not be leaving. Tom had gone in to
finish out his life in that hospital.
I flew out to be with my brother. He was in excruciating pain with his liver
failing and each subsequent system in his body beginning to shut down. My brother was not a member of our church,
but I know he thought a lot about it. As
I sat with him, he kept looking out his hospital window as if he was searching
for something. When I would ask him what
he was looking for, he would simply say, “Nothing.” A few hours had passed when he exclaimed,
“there it is! I knew it was out there
somewhere!” I asked him, “What is out
there?” The Dallas Temple. He then had me sit him up in order to look at
the Temple. There we sat in his hospital
room side by side, holding hands, and staring at the place where families can
be sealed together, forever. In that
tender moment, my brother knew I loved him and I knew he loved me.
As Tom began to fade into a coma, I aroused him enough in
order that I might say what would be my final good-bye. He held my hand and told me how grateful he
was that I loved him and supported him through thick and thin. And then, he told me how much he loved
me. That was the last thing he spoke to
me before he passed away. Those three
simple words were a gift that would carry me through the grief of losing my
brother.
Fast forward to July 3, 2000. I was sitting at our desk in the office that
evening. I had a recurring prompting to
call home. I questioned that prompting
as I had spoken to my mother just that morning, and really wondered “why” I
would receive that particular prompting.
Mom wasn’t going to be home, but Dad was. I really didn’t want to call Dad, as he was
incredibly good at lecturing and offering unsolicited advice. Most of my siblings and mother will tell you
that I am, in fact, a very independent person coupled with a dose of a “Type A”
yet very “yellow” personality.
Yet, there I was with this prompting that was circling me
and beckoning me to, “CALL HOME!” Hence,
I called home. Dad answered. Quite honestly, that was one of the best and
most incredible conversations I had had with my Dad. Yes, he did offer his unsolicited
advice. But for whatever reason, I was
able to listen and actually accept what he had to say. Towards the end of our conversation, he told
me how proud of me he was. He told me
what a good mother I was. And, my Dad
told me how much he loved me.
Upon finishing my conversation with Dad after talking nearly
30 minutes, I began to think, maybe I simply needed to hear and know that my
Dad loved me. Honestly, the thought made
me smile and grateful I had called home.
On July 4th, the very next day at about 10am, I
received a call from my sister informing me that Dad had a heart attack. My sister explained that hospital personnel
had placed my family into a private room awaiting the doctor’s report. The physician finally came in and told them
that they had done everything they could and that my father had passed
away. My father was a career officer. Thus our soldier, our father, went to his
heavenly home on July 4th.
What if I hadn’t called home? What if I didn’t hear my father tell me how
proud he was of me? What if I didn’t
hear him tell me he loved me? What if I
didn’t listen to that prompting? Those
are a lot of “what if’s.” But the fact
of the matter is, I did listen. I did
call home. And, my last memory and
conversation was to hear that my father loved me. Those three simple words continue to bless my
life, as I often ponder that moment in time ~ “I love you.”
Now, let’s fast forward, again, to December 10, 2011. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon and I
was busily getting the laundry caught up.
I had a pile of Zach’s laundry to put away and went into his room to do
just that. Zach was in his room on his
computer. As I went to put his clothes
away, he turned to me and said, “Mom, I love you.” I looked at him giving him a raised eyebrow
questioning “why” he would so randomly tell me that, but I told him I loved him
too. I went into his closet and put his
clothes away. And as I came out, he got
up from his chair, came to me, put his arm around me, hugging me, and said,
“Mom, I really do love you.”
I well remember that his sweet declaration of not just once,
but twice, filling me up to where “my cup runneth over.” The very next day, December 11th,
Zach left this mortal existence. As I
have pondered Zach’s affirmation over and over and over again, how sweet and
profound those three little words have become in my life. I have those beautiful and simple words
deeply rooted and fixed to the depths of my soul. How grateful I am that my Zach left me with
this gift, his gift of love. He knew I
would need that gift to traverse through the depths of grief.
The gift of love is an emotion that one cannot begin to
describe, and yet we recognize it, feel it deeply, and it literally can fill us
with a joy beyond compare. I am grateful
for a family to love, and to have their love in return. What if just three words could bless your
life? I love you. Don’t let the opportunity pass you by…
“Love your family.
Spend time, be kind and serve one another. Make no room for regrets. Tomorrow
is not promised and today is short.” Unknown
Sometimes the light in Zach's room is so bright, I feel like he is there filling it up with light.
This is where I work on my genealogy and I know I have an angel helping me <3
Moments That Matter Most <3
