Hello Sunshine: Love Note

Even in a young marriage, as time passes, the expression of love begins to change. Sometimes, I find myself saying “I love you” before starting the day or ending the night. I feel in love but I have forgotten how to really say it. Love is not supposed to be easy and cannot grow while set on autopilot.

We all suffer difficulties, endure struggles and are tested – sometimes more often than we like. Embracing the strength that is offered to us, as we triumph over each obstacle, will make us stronger, our relationships stronger. We all will continue to learn and love as we grow.

Below is my gift to Chris this Valentine's Day. We, together, want to share this message with all of you.

* * *

Dear Chris,

I remember the Monday before you asked me to marry you. It was a late October night; a slight chill gently kissed the darkness as we sat on the stoop. We were talking – really talking – and listening. I could tell you had something on your mind. Your eyes were twinkling so very quickly in the moonlight – begging to cry out – but your mouth never gave in, never offered up your secret.

“You have no idea how much I love you.” The words escaped your lips so suddenly that I could feel my breath hitch. I slowly drank in the cool air, letting it temper the blush I felt blanketing my body. We had said those three little words before...but this time...it was different.

Only a couple days later, you got down on one knee and asked me to be your wife. I said yes and at that very moment I could see love – and relief – in your eyes. Your secret was finally out.

* * *

I could feel my father's arm linked with my own – holding me up, offering security – but it was as if all moisture had left my mouth. I tried to swallow away my nervousness but nothing seemed to calm my jitters. As I contemplated a run to the water fountain I was ushered forth; heavy, honey-colored doors slowly began to open. Suddenly we were walking – dad and me – and I could see you off in the distance.

Photo courtesy of Kate Triano Photography

Butterflies were still dancing the tango in my stomach when I felt my father kiss my cheek, but, as you took my hand in yours, I again felt safe.

Our vows were traditional; though we had spoken of writing our own, we were young and caught up in the hoopla of wedding planning and preparation. I have no doubt that we meant the words heard so many times before – to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health... – but if I had to do it again now, knowing us like I do, I would write the words and truths spilling from my heart.

Photo courtesy of Kate Triano Photography

You are still my best friend. My love.

Superhero father to our son.

I never would have imagined six years ago that our journey together would take us to the places we have been. To the pain and devastation we have felt. I never thought that 'in sickness and in health' would apply to the well-being of our son. To the mental, physical, emotional prowess we needed to survive as a couple, as parents, as individuals. I never thought that we would find ourselves questioning our union, our place in each others lives.

So much has seemingly changed since we said 'I do.' Yes, I never would have imaged this life for us, but it is ours. Together, we know the love of – and for – a child. We have experienced the purest of joy in the good times and gained raw perspective in the bad. We are strong, even when we feel weak. We are wise, even when we question. We are partners in this journey of ours.

Our love has undoubtedly changed, but I can honestly say I love you more today than ever before. We are still growing together, learning together, forgiving together. The knowingness that 'life is not easy' reminds us to persist. After all, we are a family of survivors. Believers of miracles and celebrators of life.

I love you.

* * *

I knew when when I woke this morning – so very early – what I wanted to write. The gift I wanted to give to you on our seventh Valentines Day as a married couple. From the onset of Aiden's diagnosis and through much of his recovery, we were focused on one thing: the health of our son. We knowingly put our relationship in the back seat. We all but buckled it in; figured it would be easy enough to bring forth when the time was right.

Our son is healthy and thriving; but – not that long ago – our relationship was tired and drawn. It would have been easy to walk away; to not face the anger and frustration we felt when Aiden got sick. We envied our friends with their healthy kids and seemingly healthy marriages. Yes, everyone has their troubles but our hearts were worn and we felt isolated in our pain. We wanted our life-before-cancer back.

What I now realize, though, is that in our devastation we gained a very rare awareness. This knowledge in and of itself is powerful, beautiful and unique to us, together. Now that we have been able to step back, realize that troubles are relative and that we are not alone in our struggles or joys; life has so much more meaning. I have no doubts in us and in our love.

* * *

This morning when I hugged you in the hallway, three times, and exclaimed – in the loudest whisper I could muster – that I loved you, did you see the twinkling in my eyes? Could you tell I had something on my mind? I could feel the words escaping my mouth so very quickly. My eyes, my heart they had a secret to share. Looks like my secret – this very love note – is a secret no longer.

Happy Valentine's Day, my love.

Always yours,

Leslie