Hard to look at

I made these little cards in probably 2001 for each person in my family. They are credit card sized double-sided laminated paper and on each one I wrote specific reasons why I love each person. I wanted my family to know and remember that no matter what happens in their lives they always have someone that loves them (me).

The reasons for loving on each card are basic. They are personality or physical trait driven and organic in terms of the essence of what makes each person up. They are specific to who each person is. They are the characteristics that will stay with them through life.

They are not things people regularly comment on or offer praise for. They are traits mostly taken for granted and often overlooked. They may be quietly acknowledged but their presence mostly come and go without any words spoken about them.

So the cards speak.
And acknowledge.
To let each person know the "little things" are special.
And recognized.
And they are loved.
For being them.

Of course I made one for Joe and it has been in a drawer in my kitchen and I have glanced at it here and there over the years. By "glanced" I mean- picked it up, barely read a word and put it back in its spot because it's hard for me to look at. I meant every word of every sentence on every card I made, his included. His card was washed several times because he carried it in his pocket or in his wallet. That in itself makes my eyes sting with tears. To know that it meant something to him- enough to carry it with him- is so special to me. One side is no longer laminated and hard to read. I've kept it safe though because I know what is on it. The specific things that I miss the most. The things that made Joe, Joe. Many are things I wish my children knew, and what I desperately wish they could have experienced first-hand.

I am grateful that I had the opportunity to let Joe know the ways I loved him. And more grateful that he was open to accept what I wrote. I am grateful

That he let the card speak.
And acknowledge.
And let him know all the little things that were special.
And recognized.
And that he was and is loved.
For being him.

Even after he is gone.

 

 

 



Especially after he is gone.