Something has occurred to me. Something groundbreaking, earth-moving, sky-tumbling, heart-trembling (now I’m singing Carole King), and almost breathtaking. And it is so simple that I feel ridiculous for even stating it, but it’s something I’ve never really thought about before.
Saying “I love you” is the same exact thing as saying “thank you for being.”
People don’t say “I love you” enough. Out of fear that the sentiment might not be reciprocated. Out of fear that it might mean a relationship is important and real. Out of pain from the past. Something. But people don’t say those words enough. And people really need to hear them.
My husband and I met in a state that neither of us lived and dated long distance for well over the first year of our relationship. We talked a lot on the phone, via text, and on Skype and saw each other on the weekends as much as possible, given that we were both finishing up school at the time. He’d been to Boston to see me; I’d been to New York to see him. I loved him and was in love with him and I wanted to tell him that in person. But we were many miles away.
One night, we were planning on talking on Skype before bed, so I – he doesn’t know this – showered, did my makeup, did my hair, put on stylishly casual clothes (“Oh this? I was just sitting around the house in it.” That’s a lie. I wear pajamas and definitely no bra when I’m at home), and we started to talk. We talked as usual. I don’t remember about what. And that was that. We said, “Good night,” and I probably looked like a giddy school girl in a push-up bra underneath a brand-new, just-cut-off-the-tags Pink sweatshirt and a healthy dose of mascara waving goodbye. Regardless, we ended the conversation.
I loved him and I wanted to tell him, but I really wanted to tell him in person. The first “I love you” and “I’m in love with you” are big deals. But I can’t keep a secret for the life of me. Especially not if it’s something I’m excited about. Which means, something overcame me, I called him back immediately on Skype, and blurted out those three little words. I said it. And he smiled. I was so mad at myself for not having the patience to tell him in person so that it’d be romantic and personal and perfect. But I needed him to know. And you know what? I’m really glad I told him, because he needed to hear it.
He said it back, and it felt so good to the core to know that the person I was thankful I had in my life, the person that had been a stranger only months before, was also thankful that I was in his. That’s all it means. It’s simple and it’s huge at the same time. I later told him that I was also in love with him, because it feels more passionate. Like, loving is to compassion as being in love is to passion. Anyway, they both apply to Ray. Sidenote: Ray, have I embarrassed you yet?
I’m not saying we should all be “in love” with everyone. That’s different. I am in love with my husband and only my husband, but I love a lot of good people, funny people, and selfless people. I love open-minded and tolerant people. I remember telling one of my best friends from college who happens to be male, “I love you” and someone walking by asked me if he was my husband. It seemed oddly presumptuous to me at the time, but I get that those words seem to be reserved for significant others for most. My friend Mark drove two and a half hours to see my mom at her fundraiser, to drive two and a half hours home the same day. I appreciate his support and am so thankful he is the person he is. So “I love you” is very fitting.
More people need to know they’re appreciated. Any single day at any second in time, something bad can happen. A tragedy can come without warning. Your loved one might not wake up. This blog article could be the last thing on earth you ever read. So stop waiting to share how you feel before it’s too late. Tell the people you are grateful you have in your life that you love them. Tell them often. And don’t forget to tell the person who looks back at you in the mirror.
Thank you all for being. I love you. Same thing.