Saying "I love you"

I remember the first time Craig said I love you. He was heading back to Denver after a brief stay in Stillwater (I was scheduled to fly to Ghana the next day). Never bashful of the phrase, I gave a tearful Craig a 'Lawler-style' hug and told him that I loved him. He said I know, and flashed an “I love you” in sign language. As he headed down the driveway towards his car, he turned toward the front door and whispered “I love you.” I carried his words with me during my time in Ghana.

He returns the “I love you’s” now with less hesitation; we, of course, pepper him with the phrase every other minute. Our old boundaries have eroded. Whereas in our youth, tender expressions of love and appreciation would have us running for the hills, we now hold a more mature perspective on family and love. We acknowledge how rare it is to have a family where folks genuinely like each other. Getting here hasn’t been easy; we’ve had our ups and downs as a family (I still wear the scar from when Craig hurled a ‘metal object’ at me after I accidentally pushed a tree trunk on his head…whoops).

Despite our growing pains, the foundation for a strong bond was there. Cancer has made that bond even stronger. Whereas before, we shared our thoughts, we now share our hearts. We’re saying what needs to be said, leaving no room for guesswork.  I hold his hand, and touch his leg, and tell him stories of our travels together. I buzz his back when he’s in pain and help lift his light body higher in bed, just as we did Mom.  He tells me his wishes and his fears and I try to comfort him as best I can. I tell him how, and in what way, he means to me, and that I have no regrets. And I tell him that, though it will be hard at first, I'll be okay, and that I'll continue to chase experiences and live the life he'd want me to live -- a life he had grown to love.  More importantly, I tell him that I love him and bid him goodnight with a kiss on the forehead. Now, in place of a hand signal, he simply whispers back I love you.  – J