I was watching a re-run of Greys’ Anatomy the other day. It was about a doctor who jumped in front of a bus, trying to save a girls’ life. It was obvious that he was going to die.
One of the main players said how important she thought it was to say (dare I use that casual, worn out, meaningless phrase) “I love you,” while people can still hear it and appreciate it.
I started thinking about that statement…that phrase…the connotations associated with that phrase…and it made sense, if you had ever known what love was.
This is the time of year when that phrase is tossed around freely. It’s the time of year when families, whether liked or disliked, come together and pretend to care about each other.
I look at this time of year now, the same way I look at funerals. Does giving somebody a gift make up for all the days, weeks and months of ignoring them? Does the gift say “I love you?”
Does getting a gift suddenly mean that you are valuable…or is it because of the “high” people get around this time of year? Does the gift say “I love you?”
When you give somebody a gift, does it mean that you are now worthy of some attention, even if it only lasts for the length of time it takes for them to utter the obligatory “thank you?”
It’s the time of year for “guilt gifts” whether from your cheating husband or your absentee children. Do those gifts still say “I love you?”
It’s the time of year for parties and even if you don’t drink, you’re pressured by somebody saying “just take a sip.” If you refuse, you’re labeled a “Scrooge.” Are they telling you they “love you” while they’re rolling their eyes and treating you like you’ve ruined their party?
It’s the time of year for sudden affection and good will but there’s also the punishment for not decorating your house. Who you are is not important. The decorations are. That means you will get no visitors because you didn’t cow-tow to your childrens’ wishes…but does that still mean they “love you?”
I think when my second daughter asked me why she would bring her children over to somebodys’ house who didn’t even bother to decorate, she spelled out my importance in that one sentence. Was she telling me she “loved me?”
Did being her childrens’ grandmother mean nothing? Was it really all about the decorations? Had it always been all about the decorations? Was I “loved” because I decorated?
Could she not understand that for me, the idea of Christmas had once again, been literally destroyed?
I wonder how happy she would have been and how anxious she would have been to decorate her house again, if her husband had given her a delightful description of his new WTC for a present? Would her husband be saying “I love you” while he was telling her?
Was Loser telling me “he loved me” while he was telling me about his WTC?
I guess I should be grateful for all this “love” but I can’t say that I am.