Have You Told Your Family You Love Them?

When I was growing up, my parents never openly expressed their love to my siblings and me. I think I always knew they loved us, but it would have helped our self esteem and peace of mind a lot to hear it from them. Of course I later realized how hard it is to tell people you love them, when you grew up never hearing it yourself. My parents both grew up in less than ideal situations, and I dare say most of their peers were no better at expressing their love than my parents were.

In 1991, my "middle" sister was fighting for her life in a hospital 60 miles from home. For part of that time, my dad was in a different hospital closer to home, and my mother was at home with Alzheimer's, realizing little that was going on. My younger bachelor brother was still trying to recover from a stroke and heart attack and still lived at home. It fell his lot to keep up with Mother who was constantly running away trying to "go home." I was staying most days and many nights with my sister at the hospital, leaving when I could to check on my dad, my mother and brother, and check in with my husband who was trying to work and come to the hospital on nights when I couldn't come home. Every time I left the hospital it seemed my sister's condition worsened and they called me to return to the hospital.

During the two months she spent in the hospital, my sister would often express her desire to see our parents. I would tell her they wanted to come, but were just physically unable to do so. She said, "Neither of them ever told me they loved me, but when I get out of here, I'm going to tell them I love them whether I ever hear it from them or not." After that I would tell her they both wanted to come see her and they wanted me to tell her they loved her. They never actually said that, but I knew they would want me to tell her that since it mattered so much to her.

My sister never lived to come home. But I learned a lesson from her experience, and after that I never missed the opportunity to tell my parents I loved them. My dad always told me he loved me, too, but I could tell it was not a comfortable thing for him to express, although he had always been very affectionate and loving towards me.

My mother had always been cold to her children to the point of not wanting to be touched. I suspected it had to do with abuse she may have suffered in her childhood, and I later learned from her younger brother that that was true. Her mind was now gone to the extent that she was never really sure who we were. After my sister died, I resumed my habit of going to my parents' house every evening, feeding Mother what I could get down her, giving her a bath, and tucking her in for the night. She seemed to enjoy the process.

To her I had no name, but became "Precious," something she had never called me in the past. I would tuck her in, kiss her on the cheek, tell her goodnight and that I loved her. She would say, "I love you, too, Precious. I sure do." There were even times she would ask me to kiss her. All my life she had made it known to all that she wasn't "kissy kissy." But that may have all been a front to cover some fear or inhibition. In that one respect, Alzheimer's proved to be a good thing.

I felt that in my mother's second childhood, I had become her mother and had been able to give her the affection she had never received as a child.

I was already in the habit of telling my children I loved them, because I hadn't wanted them to grow up wondering about it as I had done. Since my sister's death, I also try to tell my remaining siblings that I love them, as I feel they need to hear it, too. Sometimes we may not like our siblings very much, but I think most of us love them regardless of personality conflicts and sibling rivalries we never grew past. Better to say it even if we're not sure we mean it, than to wish we had said it after they're gone.

After I lost my parents, the mother of one of my friends was very ill. I heard from a mutual acquaintance that my friend was spending a lot of time taking care of many older people, but would do nothing for her mother. I knew she held resentment for some things that had happened between her and her mother, but I hadn't realized it was serious enough to merit her ignoring her mother. One day while visiting with my friend, the subject of her mother came up and she told me of things her mother had done and was still doing that hurt her. I told her that I had felt the same way about my mother at times, but had still done all I could for her because she was my mother if for no other reason, and that I had a peace about the whole situation that I would never have had otherwise.

Soon I heard that my friend was helping her mother at every opportunity. After her mother died, my friend expressed appreciation to me, saying she was so glad she had been there for her mother when she was needed. That's more about showing love than saying it, but love shown in any way never goes unrewarded.

Since my sister's death, I have also learned to express love to other members of my extended family, like an aging uncle from each side of the family. My mother's brother confided that he had never been told he was loved till I told him. I call my dad's brother, the last surviving sibling of either of my parents, almost every night since he lost his wife a few months ago. Before I hang up, I always tell him I love him, and he expresses his love and gratitude for my calling him, as he is very lonely. I hope it helps him knowing he is still loved.

After losing the majority of my extended family, some unexpectedly, I know every time I see one of them, it may be my last opportunity to tell them I love them. I don't want to miss that opportunity.

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