Me Too

There was once a man. A father, a husband, a homeowner, a payer of bills and a watcher of televised sports. He was a handy man who could fix things and rarely complained about much...it wasn't in his nature. 

His son was my friend and he told me this story. 

His father grew up in the big city, he had a few brothers and a few sisters, a mother and a father. He was the oldest and could do nothing right in the eyes of his father. He did try to please his father, but every attempt met with criticism and scorn. Their home was a cold place, not in the BTU sense, but in an emotional way. At the end of the day, seeing each other at home was nothing more than a registration, a noting of the presence of others in the same space. There were few smiles, they were not encouraged and in fact, cultivated an angry response. Needless to say, there were no expressions of love.

One day, it was no different than any other, his father did not come home for dinner. Their mother made no mention of it and served their meal and they made ready for bed and went to bed.

Their mother made their meal every night for several years. They went to bed every night and their lives passed the time, in the way that lives do.

One day, it was no different than any other, his father arrived home and sat down for dinner. Their mother served them dinner and what conversation there was, did not include any discussion of the several year absence. They got ready for bed and went to bed. 

The years passed and no one ever spoke of the unaccounted absence of the man at the head of the table, their father. Little changed and little would.

My friends father went to college, got a degree and left home. He got married and had several children of his own.

He built a house and raised his family. His son, my friend, noticed that his dad never said, "I love you." Not to their mom or any of his siblings. In fact, as they sat watching "Happy Days" one night, my friend realized that his dad was like "Fonzi", who also could not say "I love you". There was an episode where Ritchie Cunningham tries to get Fonzi to say it, but every time Fonzi tries, his face got twisted up and his lips didn't work and what came out was "I luuuuu...". and that was it.

My friends father didn't try to say it, but every time one of the kids would say, "I love you Dad", he would just say, "Me too". When his wife would say "I love you, honey", he would say, "Me too." They all knew he loved them, he just couldn't say it. For whatever reason, that simple phrase would not, could not get out of his mouth. 

My friends dad passed away a few years ago from an enlarged heart and the complications it brought. My friend visited him in the hospice where he was in his last few days. They had a long talk and at the end, my friend told him, "I love you dad" and his dad tried, he tried to say the words. And even though he had tears coming down his face, he could not say them, but said instead, "Me too."

After he passed, he asked his mother if he ever said it to her. She told him, "No, but he never needed to, we all knew"

My friend told me that he disagreed, that his dad did need to say it, wanted to say it. He could see it in his eyes the last time he saw him. He just couldn't overcome the emotion that came with the words and so, the words never were borne from his mouth. 

"He built a house with a hammer and nails and a handsaw, but those three words", said my friend , "defeated him." 

I haven't seen my friend in awhile and I never did learn where his grandfather disappeared to for a couple of years. Maybe nobody knows. It was a different generation, with a different set of rules, when sometimes "me too" was enough.