Let’s talk about L-O-V-E

Let’s talk about Cat Stevens, James Taylor, Dave Matthews, Joni Mitchell, and all the great musicians and songs that try to capture the bouncing-out-of-your chest, leaping-like-Tigger, swimming-like-a-lava-fountain of-Swiss-chocolate, feeling of love.

Now I’m not talking about romantic love. Haven’t, unfortunately, felt that kind of love for years. I’m talking about that explosively powerful feeling that a parent has for a child, whether that child is 2.5 weeks or 40+ years. Watching your baby love his or her baby in the way you love your child/parent is overwhelming. Because even though your hair is grey and you have arthritic knees and a pot belly and your double chin flops around the way your dad’s used to, on the inside you still feel like you used to. You still love your adult child, and now his or her child, with such passion and devotion it feels like the sky and the wind and the ocean and all the trees at at Big Sur and the stars from here to Pluto have been knit together in a jacket designed just for you.

No one, surely, could feel such love.

That this love for your child never ever ends. It just gets bigger and cozier and more honest and precious.

Because we know we are on the homestretch, that we won’t live to see the seeds we plant today, the baby butts diapered and the chins wiped, will all be forgotten–a blur–a mirage–a splash of Perrier with lime. We won’t matter. We’ll be long gone, a yellowed photo, a trashed diary entry, a dowry used to pay down credit card debt. Our names, our stories, won’t be uttered. We will be like all the others, barely mentioned, remembered warmly by but a few.

All of this–the sweet smiles and screams of grandchildren, the witnessing of adult children growing, changing, adapting–matters so much to us. These quiet moments are snapshots we burn into our chest. These children, these adult children, don’t realize how important they are to us, how we think of them when when we’re with them and away, how, when we toss and turn at night, it’s because we worry and want the best for them.

We have not even been close to perfect. We’ve made so many mistakes we could be in a textbook as an example of what not to do. But we sincerely meant well. We meant no harm. We are imperfect examples of humanity. We hope one day that you will forgive us. One day, you’ll understand.

We know it’s about you now. We’ve handed you the baton. And we’re glad and grateful for your life, and our life, for the past, present and the future. We are filled with the season, the joy, the grief, the abundance, the closed and open doors. We want for you more than we ever had.

Still.

Always and forever.

How Can I Tell You? by Cat Stevens

How can I tell you 
That I love you
I love you 
But I can’t think of right words to say I long to tell you 
That I’m always thinking of you
I’m always thinking of you
But my words just blow away
Just blow away It always ends up to one thing, honey 
And I can’t think of right words to say Wherever I am girl
I’m always walking with you 
I’m always walking with you
But I look and you’re not there Whoever I’m with
I’m always, always talking to you 
I’m always talking to you
And I’m sad that you can’t hear
Sad that you can’t hear It always ends up to one thing, honey
When I look and you’re not there I need to know you
Need to feel my arms around you 
Feel my arms around you
Like a sea around a shore Each night and day I pray
In hope that I might find you
In hope that I might find you
Because heart’s can do no more
Can do no moreIt always ends up to one thing, honey
Still I kneel upon the floor How can I tell you 
That I love you
I love you 
But I can’t think of right words to say I long to tell you 
That I’m always thinking of you 
I’m always thinking of youIt always ends up to one thing, honey 
And I can’t think of right words to say