Sharing Your Caring

When we are little, it seems impossible that we could forget the things that define our whole universe of existence.  Impossible to imagine all the details, sensations, thoughts, facts, fancies that crowd into a lifetime of years. 
And yet, we all too often do forget.  We forget the joys and small smiles shared with loved ones we may only meet a few times in life, but we do remember the love.  At least, I hope we do. Surely the love remains imprinted on our hearts, for us to find and warm ourselves with when we really need it.

I always thought so.  In my own experience, I have often remembered the love of a special neighbor who spent time with me, my grandpa that I only saw a few times, but wrote to almost every week, Sunday School teachers, and school teachers and aunts and cousins that I only saw once in a while, but that I knew cared about me, about who I was and how I was doing. 

Sometimes in this life, we get bogged down in the sludge of routine and responsibility, and it begins to weigh very heavily on us.  We forget that there are people all around us, and even people far away, who care about us, love us, and wish us well.  We forget that our family is there for us, they do love us, and we forget sometimes how much we love them as well. 
It shouldn't, but quite often it does take a traumatic event to make us remember.  Our recent tornadoes were one such.  I have told family and friends that they are important to me more clearly and more often than I would have before.  You never know.  You might not get another chance.  No guarantees in this life. 

There is one person I know, who fights so hard against a disease trying to steal her life away, she keeps on in the face of pain, she shows her caring in the warmth of her smile and in her voice, always gracious and caring of others.  Life is precious to her, she reminds me how precious it should be to all of us. 

We have lost another person, one I didn't know as well as I would have liked.  I can't help thinking he would have fought harder against the darkness if he'd known my friend who walks so stubbornly in the light.  We never truly know the battles another faces.  All we can do is love them, and let them know they are loved.  I tried to do that.  Hope he knew.  I'll miss him a lot, even though we hadn't seen each other in years, we communicated on the Internet now and then.

It sounds so trite, but it is true.  You should tell the ones you love that they are loved, that you care about them and what happens to them.  Sometimes it isn't easy, and you feel silly, or maudlin, or presumptuous, even.  Still, you should tell them.  Better yet, show them.  Do little things to show your appreciation.  There is no such thing as too much love,  not when it really is love. 
My husband used to leave sticky notes in odd places around the house before he left on a trip.  (He went TDY a lot when we were first married, and I spent a lot of time missing him.)  I'd drop him off at the base and come home to go about my business, and find a note inside the lid of the washer, or on the spice rack in the pantry, or on my filing cabinet.  (Sometimes in my lingerie drawer.) 
I knew wherever he was (and sometimes, he couldn't tell me) he was thinking of me and loving me. 
I hid notes in his bags, sometimes in his flight jacket or flight suit pockets, inside his "MAC purse"(the zippered notebook most of the airlift crew members carried), wherever I thought he'd find them when he needed to remember that I was thinking of him, too.

Little things, but they add up.  Sometimes just the fact that he starts dinner before I get home, or does the dishes, that reminds me how much I am loved.  (And how much I love him, I tell you there is nothing so sexy as a man who does dishes. Especially if he does them without being asked.)

How can I be more appreciative of the ones I care about?  How can I let them know I sincerely do care? This is going to be an ongoing quest for me, and I hope to do better at it than I have in the past.