I love you.

(yea it's gonna be one of those posts)

Can you remember the last time someone said I love you? We may be loved, but sometimes it's obviously implied, but hardly deliberately expressed. 

I sat in bed (on a night I worked 13 hours and had two more coming up and had not an ounce of business being up) and I could not remember the last time someone said I love you with any certainty. (As I type and give some real thought, it was you Janine). That bothered me. I knew people loved me. Shit, some people love me and I just be like "really?". But I guess with a love language of "words of affirmation", it wasn't resonating how it should. I also think people think because of the fact that people are well known or always cheery and smiling they must be overwhelmed by love regularly and don't think it's needed from them, because obviously, someone is telling them. (Kind of like the bystander effect by Malcom Gladwell in the tipping point)

Also, we may be taking for granted being loved. Maybe we don't remember because it just isn't something we cherish as much as we should. 

I love everyone receiving reading this. Some of you I don't know that well but a little bit of my soul goes into these posts every time I write them. I wish everyone a better holistic well being with every tap of my keyboard. I don't rush these emails because I want every thought to be authentic. I'm vulnerable as all hell in some of these emails and if you know me you know that it's scary AF.

If that ain't love bih....

Very personal story: My dad passed away when my mom was about a month or two pregnant with me. My grandpa retired to basically be my nanny while my mom went to school and worked two jobs. He is the person I spent the most time with growing up. He the reason I can put together Ikea furniture with ease and probably why I act like a boy most of the time. He was my dad. My grandpa. My teacher. My personal chef. And a lot of times my annoyance (as with everyone we love). 

He became very ill when I was in high school and seeing him, my hero, weak and knowing I was losing him was something I couldn't bear. This went on for about 12 years. I visited less than I am proud of. The last time I saw him, he was at the hospital recovering from a minor infection and they said he would be home soon. He looked good (compared to a lot of other times) and was even joking around. I almost didn't go that day cause I was exhausted but I knew he had been asking for me. I told him I love loved him as I left and kissed his hand and forehead. He usually just takes it with no response but this time he squeezed my hand and told me "love me too poo poo" (it was his very weird nickname for me that I didn't know it had an alternate meaning til I was like 13). My family isn't very affectionate or emotional and I'm a big ball of emotions so his response was shocking but it filled my heart.  That was the last exchange we ever had.

Nothing has hit me harder than the moment they told me he was gone, 4 days later. Even as I write this a year and a half later I'm bawling. (Side note- time doesn't heal DEEP wounds... the real cuts. You just get better at coping and get used to the scars). The only thing that brought me an ounce of solace (other than friends), was knowing that he knew I loved him and that he loved me too.

Now this was not to make any one's day sad. Or have y'all emailing me I love you's (though I'll take them if they're genuine). This was just a reminder that we all need to be a bit more mindful of the giving and receiving of love. 

Ok. Now on to the stuff that doesn't give me anxiety to share...