Nearly once a week, my phone conversations with either one of my parents ends with an "I love you."
Usually a couple of times a day, my husband and I tell our children the same.
There is a poignancy to this cycle: We star in our parents' dreams, our children star in ours. The object of love moves forward.
At least twice a year, retailers want us to demonstrate this affection for our mothers and fathers with cards and gifts. And for many of us, buying a bottle of perfume, sending a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolate is easier than putting into words what our mother or father means to us.
Parental relationships are complicated. Disappointment cuts deeper when it involves those in whom we invest expectations.
Even when they fail us, as humans often do, those ties are notoriously difficult to sever. And, for a child, what better gift than to be able to take a parent's love for granted? But adult children, especially those fortunate enough to have had a mother and a father who tried their best and whose love we have never doubted, ought to make the effort to say in words what we feel in our hearts.
As easy as it is for me to tell people that I love them, it's harder to tell them why. The explanation can feel overly sentimental, like a cheesy dime-store card. Or the explanation might be too difficult to admit, bound up with past hurt or scars of emotional mine fields.
And yet, appreciating the people we love is more to our benefit than theirs. It reminds us of the richness of our own lives.
When I look back at how my mother raised the six of us, certain parts of the story merit more attention: the sacrifices made, the meals cooked, the love freely given. The glossed-over history creates an impossible yardstick by which to measure one own's performance as mother, but it also fills my heart. I know my mistakes as a mother will be different than hers. But I hope my children grow up as secure in my love as I have always been in hers. I hope my children look back at the stories of their childhood with the same kindness and selectiveness of memory that I do my own.
It's not until you become a parent that you appreciate how challenging some decisions can be because impact reverberates.
It wasn't until I had to say it myself that I understood how difficult it can be to say "no" to your child, especially when it can be so easy to say "yes." We worry about doing the right thing, giving the best opportunities, striking the right balance between supporting and letting go.
Every year, my children have asked what I want them to buy me for Mother's Day. Every year, I tell them to write me a letter. The grade schooler says, "Well, of course, we're going to do that." And her younger brother asks if someone will help him write the words.
The words that make the best Mother's Day gift are so simple: I realize what you did and continue to do for me. I appreciate it. I forgive you your faults and shortcomings. I love you.
