Love. This oh so elusive term in my life has always been a mystery. I turned to movies to solve my questions and unfortunately wound up lacking. Girls do not actually fall in love with the nerdy sweet guy who is persistent; they do however fall in love with Matthew McConaughey. The illustration of love found in literature from works such as Pride and Prejudice only befuddles me more while music leads me to believe it is some sort of possessive act.
However, over the past thirty days I have seen what love is truly about. And through this demonstration I've also realized its been under my own roof this whole time.
My dad has been the most caring, loving and faithful husband a woman could hope for. Over the past month he has been at the hospital an average of 18-20 hours a day. Not once has he ever came home to sleep in his own bed and rarely does he leave mother's side. He has served her meeting every request with a willingness to bid every entreaty she might put before him. He holds her hand and has told her multiple times, when it looks like her time has finally come, how much he loves her and treasures the time they had together.
Yet this love has been going on not thirty days but for over twenty-nine years. I tried to recollect times when I recalled my mother and father fighting. While I'm sure they had their arguments not a single door was ever slammed nor was either voice ever raised. They spent nearly every evening together at the dinner table laughing, listening and crying while discussing their days. Many vacations were spent exploring the US together as a couple and as a family. And these details are merely the visible, readily accessible memories that I possess. What went on between them is undoubtedly even more special.
If love decides one day not to be so elusive than I hope that I can model my relationship off of my parents. May it be an example of peace, stability, reliability, happiness and joy. Perhaps these aren't movie, book, or song worthy attributes but its what love defined looks like.