My parents have been married for 45 years and that’s a long time. My mom had a rough childhood. She spilled it out when I was in California for the first week before the funeral and I was deeply sadden hearing the childhood of my mother.
I tell you that because of what my dad said to my mom after finding about her pain.
When my dad married my mom, he knew of her past and said, “I will be your true father, mother, brother, and lover.”
I wept at that promise. There's not too many men like my dad today: a man who would see the need of his bride and be everything for her. To make up, heal and atone for some of the past - my dad would take what was empty and fill it again. He was like a painter collecting colors and re-painting a sad grey world making it new once more.
I always thought I was different from my dad - I thought my dad was those silent type - working hard, quiet and deeply personal contrast that with me: outgoing, talkative and openly affectionate.
As a child I didn't recall too many times seeing my parents show affection, but it wasn't until dad passed away that I heard about the first love letters between my father and mother. My mother found it in a wooden box - the letters were yellowed and tattered. My father kept those letters for over forty years. Apparently he was the romantic. I couldn't read it because it was written in Chinese, but holding those letters my eyes welled up with tears - the heart of my dad was inked on the pages
I held the letters, but he was gone. There's so much more to the depth of this man that I never knew - he shared a commitment and love for my mother that was to a degree I was about to explore as a husband to my wife.
My mother reminded me, "Honor your father's memory by loving your wife."