Rollercoasters...: What if just three words…. ?

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 4^th, 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 4^th.

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 11^th, 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

“What can you do to promote world peace? Go home and love your family.” Mother Theresa