Does "I Love You" Matter?

I was raised in a very odd family setting which many of you would probably find quite foreign.  At least I hope you do.  You see, in my family, there was always this sort of weird love you, hate you tension.  I never quite knew where I stood in terms of acceptance.  Though much of this had to do with my mother's volatile temper, the atmosphere that existed was not completely of her making.  A fair portion of it probably had to do with the nature of our religion.  Some of it may have had to do with our social status (or lack thereof).  I'm sure I could spend some time dissecting it and come up with a bunch of other contributing factors but that's not what I'm shooting for with this post.  Now, don't get me wrong, there were good times (at least for some), there was laughter (a lot), and there were instances of joy.  However, there was also a lot of conflict  (I suppose I can be thankful at least that we were permitted to have conflict, but that's a topic for another post, another night...).

So, what I really wanted to write about is this thing that, to this day, I still find very strange.  Our family never said the words, "I love you."  Now, some of my siblings will likely dispute this so we'll just have to agree that we have different and unique remembrances of the way things were.  When I discussed this with one of my brothers some years ago, he insisted that the words were said all the time.  I have no memory of this.  What I do remember is wanting to hear it.  Needing to hear it.  I suppose that there are families in which these words aren't said very often, but there are a myriad of actions that display and support the existence of love.  Unfortunately, the family dynamic that I experienced was too volatile for me to ever be confident that true love really existed.

There is one recollection that I feel is quite relevant that I want to share with you.  I have not shared it with many people and certainly not in any setting as public as this blog, so it's me exposing myself a bit.  When I was going through my tumultuous teen years (and boy, were they),  I so desperately wanted my family to use the words, "I love you".  I didn't understand why none of us would say the words.  Couldn't say the words.  I needed to hear these words.  I needed to say these words.   It was a time when my father's existence was much the same as my own.  We both had the relative (and all too brief) relief of a life outside the house, but of course, would end up back at home in the evenings to attempt to endure another night in that suffocating atmosphere.  One day, I had such a feeling of despondency over not hearing or saying these words, that I made a decision.  I would tell my father, "I love you".  Now, It really should give you an indication of the magnitude of the situation when I tell you that it took me several days to work up the courage to say these words to my father.  He was always very loving and supportive with his actions.  I was always pretty sure deep down, that he cared about me.  Nevertheless, I struggled to say the words.  When I was finally able to, it took every ounce of strength I had just to utter them.  We were telling each other goodnight and I stammered out, "I love you, dad".  He was incredulous and responded with, "Really?  You do?"  It was like he could hardly believe it.   I said, "Yes".  He said, "I love you too".  I'll never forget that moment as a flood of relief and acceptance washed over me.  I'll also never forget the next several days.  Each day for a week or so, my dad would coyly ask, "Do you still love me?"  I would say, "Yes, I still love you" and he would respond with, "I love you too".

So, the question is this:  Do the words "I Love You" matter?  I mean, actions are supposed to speak louder than words, right?  I'm sure there are many of you that were told you were loved as you were growing up and then were treated like crap.  The words certainly didn't mean much in those cases.  I don't really have an answer to this question because there really isn't one that applies to every situation.  What I can say, is that the words matter to me.  I still need to hear them.  I still need to say them.  I don't take them lightly or throw them around casually.  When I say them, I mean them.  Having said that, I say them a lot.  I say them when I feel them.  I feel them a lot.   I say them to my kids.  I say them to my mom.  I say them to my siblings.  I say them to my friends.  I sometimes even say them to acquaintances.  I suppose this post isn't so much meant to inspire anyone, although it may resonate with some of you and I hope it does.  It's mostly, me digging deep, putting myself out there and letting you know how important these words are to me and the magnitude of them when I direct them your way.  I hope and pray that I never become sheepish about offering them and I pray the same for all of you.  Now go forth and love my fellow babies!