Expressing Love
One of my daughters got married last weekend on a lovely, sunny day in Louisville, and it was a joyous, celebratory affair. I couldn’t be more delighted with the weekend in general and the ceremony in particular, where it was impossible not to take note of just how well my daughter and her husband articulated their love for each other. Their vows were incredible, describing feelings that I would be hard-pressed to come up with if I were asked why I love my wife of thirty years. We exchanged vows back in 1995, but I’ll be darned if I can remember them now, and I’m pretty she we didn’t even write them. I think we found them in a wedding book somewhere, maybe taking lines from various readings to compile a sort of “greatest hits,” in stark contrast to the personalized masterpieces I heard last weekend.
Even today, while my wife and I say “I love you” regularly, neither of us are all that well-versed in communicating affection. Our relationship is still wonderful and we’re madly in love with each other, but on an average day, the most loving thing I might hear from my wife is “I like your butt.” And honestly, as I ceaselessly approach age 60, I’ll take it!
I think of the characters Tevya and Golde from the musical Fiddler on the Roof. When Tevya asks his wife, “Do you love me?” she responds with a degree of surprise and indignation, “Do I WHAT?” She then gives a laundry list of all the chores she’s done for her husband for the past twenty-five years, before finally concluding by the song’s end, “I suppose I do.” Tevya must have swooned upon hearing that touching line!
My wife and I aren’t that bad, but the reality is that we both came from somewhat emotionally repressed families. Not bad families, but not overly demonstrative. Grudges were had. Silent treatments were plentiful. Distances were built. It was tricky, and for a guy like me who wasn’t overly confident to begin with, navigating the world of dating where articulating affection and tenderness were prerequisites, well, let’s just say my track record wasn’t stellar.
After I met my future wife, saying “I love you” and showing tenderness came more easily, but it was limited to her and her only (and eventually my children). It took many, many years before I felt somewhat comfortable hugging friends. It’s still not my favorite way of saying hello. My father and I haven’t hugged since the 1970s. My brother and I have never hugged. We shake hands. It’s ridiculous, but such is the legacy of our upbringings.
Watching my daughter last weekend – and observing my other two children show their joy and kindness – I get the sense that generation by generation our family is slowly but surely shedding the residue of our stern, German heritage, and embracing something more welcoming, more understanding, more loving and more supportive. I feel like my wife and I took baby steps in that direction, and now our children are taking that baton and running with it to a whole new level of open communication.