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I recently heard my father telling someone a story about his life. He was discussing his step dad who had raised him since he was 3 years old. He said my mother and he used to get into it fairly often because Grandpa was a difficult man in many ways. I know I had no idea that he loved me until shortly before his death.

One day Mom asked Grandpa, "Harry, do you love Phil?"

Grandpa replied, "Of course I do!"

Mom then asked, "Well, have you ever told him?"

Grandpa thought and said, "No, I don't suppose I ever have."

He then turned to my father and said, "Phil, I love you."

Now Dad knew his dad loved him, but he had never heard it in words. How sad! I have to say I don't remember my dad saying he loved me until later in life either. I could say it's a "man thing", and it may be, but it's also a generational thing.

Some families say "I love you" at the drop of a hat. The words are thrown around so much that they lose their meaning. This isn't good either, but to never hear "I love you from your parents is much worse.

Some think the child will know they are loved by the parents' actions. I wish this were true, but we all know that we tend to look for affirmation in the spoken word. We may "know" we are loved on some level, but it never hurts to hear it put in words. It confirms for us that we are, indeed, loved.

So why do the words matter so much if we show love in other ways? Well, one reason is that we all speak different "love languages". My husband shows love by the things he does for me. I show love by writing notes or saying I love you.

When my husband and I were first married, I did not believe he loved me. He went to work every day, he took care of me and our cars and our kids. For him that was saying "I love you". In my world, however, that was just something you do because it's your duty. I didn't realize for several years that he was telling me he loved me by his actions.

It wasn't until we moved beyond those communication barriers, that we really were able to accept that the other really did love us. For him and me both it happened when he had a bad accident and was off work for a year. I had to debreed his foot and take care of him. It was then he knew for sure that I loved him. He often thanks me for not walking away as he had seen others do when it came to crisis.

As we faced each crisis together, we both came to realize that we did indeed love each other, and our love grew to a new level.
You may ask the point of this little walk down memory lane. I go there

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