To my dear friends--
 

There will come a time when your loved one will be gone. Your opportunity to tell them you love them will be gone with them. Tell them today, now. You'll make their day brighter. You will have immunized yourself against the regret of having missed your chance to tell them what's in your heart while you had the chance. Plus, it just feels good.

I once learned that a candle loses nothing by lighting another candle. Sharing your love for your family and friends with them is the same. It costs nothing; it simply adds more love to the world where love is often in short supply.

Best of all, come tomorrow, you can do it again.

This is good.

Do it quickly, before they start their Christmas shopping.

Since my propensity to tell those I care about that I care is equal to my propensity to tell people I don't care for to eff the eff off, I'll bump this thread in the interest of those who forget to do either.

"No one else can speak the words on your lips..."

Unless you're a ventriloquist's dummy.

I would fail miserably in that role.

I think this just happened to me.

What if I tell her how I really feel, and it ruins everything?:thepain:

Then you know.

I actually had a party where everyone had to write an obituary and a eulogy about someone else in the group. A great chance to really tell people what they won't be able to hear after they're worm food. As for lighting a candle with a candle, I've noticed that the candle receiving the flame must be above the one giving it. That way, no one gets dripped on, and you, as the giver, feel much better about giving.

That must have been cheery.

I just threw up a little in my mouth.

Telling people only works for a certain type of person. Let's face it, anyone can say "I love you". Showing them you love them works for everyone. Except those who don't deserve your love.

You know what, though? Don't tell people you love that you hate them in the heat of an argument and then part for the day. That's bad mmmmkay?

The words 'I love you' were not the kind of thing my dad and I were comfortable using. We rarely (never?) told each other what we felt. I can't say as I feel that I lost out on that score. I really didn't need him to tell me. I'm pretty damn sure he didn't need me to tell him. I think the only time I said those words to him as an adult, was when he was dying, and he was already too far away to understand what was being said to him, i suspect.

They felt a little weird. A little weighted. Those words. Just not the way my family talk to each other. 'rest now' felt comfortable. 'Bye Dad' felt comfortable. 'love you' felt cumbersome and like stating the obvious. If my dad had, at some point, phoned me up and told me he loved me; or turne dup at my house for a visit and told me he loved me...I'd have been touched, sure, but I'd have also been a little weirded out. It would have been so completely out of character for my Dad.

My loved ones know I love them. I know they love me. It doesn't need saying. Very, very occasionally, like maybe twice in the last two decades, I've told Mum I love her. But I defy you to find a closer mother and daughter, who are more sure of each other's affection.

I'm with Monnie on this. You show people you love them. Behaviorally, in how you lead your life and interact with those you love. Saying the words works for some, but is odd to others.

Total agreement with Dana and Monster. Same for physical manifestations of affection.

One can say the words and do the actions. They are not mutually exclusive ways of being, for some of us.

I don't see them as mutually exclusive.

Actually, it was great fun. Here's a couple of the obits...
Services are not being held on February 20th for Carol xxxxx because she has to work the next day, and also because she ain’t dead.
Carol was born and raised in Utica, Playing hooky for most of her high school years at UFA.
After high school, Carol tried her hand at several occupations and several husbands before settling down with her cat on Paris Hill road.
Those attending the wake should expect to see an empty casket, because, like I said, she ain’t gonna be there.


Services are being held today for Jill xxxx, even though she hasn’t died, because only the good die young. Jill spent many years at xxxxx Power Company, where she held the position of “she who makes sure customers remain on hold till they die of old age”, after working her way up from various phone transferring positions.
Jill is survived by her children, grandchildren, and several ungrateful and insulting friends. Mourners are asked to bring oatmeal and a Hibachi to the service.

Oh, I know. I was just saying that there sometimes seems to be this "if you can't say you love someone then if you do admit love it's way stronger than the love of someone who says the words" idea.

Though I would tend to agree as this pertains to any Tom Dick or Harry (or Thomasina or Dickette or Harriet) who comes along (you know the type: Oh, I LOVE you. Oh wait. No. I love this guy or that guy. I love this chair. I love this streetlamp) I think that when it comes to family, verbalizing or not verbalizing...the meaning isn't lessened by saying it "too much" and even not saying it at all.

We are very lucky people to have family we know we love, we know loves us. :)

Speaking of verbalizing: I have no idea how to say what I'm trying to say. This was my best effort. ;)

I like it.

Of course, I've told this story a million times but here's a million and one: I was telling my family that at MY funeral I want an open bar. I want a party. I want people to get up and remember something funny I said or something goofy I did. I want people to laugh and have fun.

My older brother replied: Great! Now that we have it all planned let's set a date! :3eye:

Shawnee, I love you

*snort*

I love you too, you idgit.

Sounds like you're a Stoic.