I think I finally figured out what this thing called “love” is all about. Oh, I know, you are sitting there thinking “she’s one of those people who’s just met someone, they just started dating and they have that ‘thing’ going on”. But, you’d be wrong. I’m about to celebrate 16 years with my husband. I just picked his underwear up off the living room floor (in total disgust) and walked past the bathroom and saw and heard things no other human should have to endure. So, by now, I imagine you’re wondering “How is she getting from picking up underwear off the floor to some grand understanding of love?”
Last year about this time, my father unexpectedly died after a short illness. It’s been a rough year for my siblings and me. I feel guilty for Dad leaving us all his worldly goods, when all we really want is to have him back. To see his big grin and those sparkling blue eyes. I was also a little mad at my Dad. For years I had complained and wished he would just stop smoking those horrible cigarettes. Although smoking isn’t what caused my father’s death, it didn’t help him in the end as he was fighting infection, blood clots and pneumonia. So, the other day as I working in the garage I found my Dad’s coveralls. They’d been there a year and when I picked them up, I caught a whiff of that smell, those cigarettes were still lingering in the air. I grabbed those coveralls and I hugged them as tightly as I could, I took a deep breath, remembering that cigarette smell, that wonderful smell of my Dad.
It was in that moment I realized that it really is the little things about someone that we love and will miss most in the end. It won’t be the flowers or the pretty cards my husband bought me for our anniversary, it won’t be that tiffany lamp or diamond ring…oh, don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love those things, but that’s just it, they’re just things. They aren’t what makes a person who they are. What makes my husband the person he is….is his underwear left in the middle of the living room floor, it’s the breakfast he fixes me in the morning, it’s the sound of his voice when he’s singing his favorite Merle Haggard tune and it’s his smell. What I believe now more than ever, is that without those little things, I would be lost – lost in love.
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