Cards with messages of love were viewed with embarrassment i

Cards with messages of love were viewed with embarrassment in our family.And the words "i love you"...谁有这样一篇文章,重谢!

Three Little Words
Silly birthday cards were always the norm in my family.Sentimental cards with messages of love were viewed with disdain and a faint sense of embarrassment.Looking back now,I don't ever remember the words "I love you" being spoken.
Then,just before I turned 29,Dad retired and my parents moved from Victoria to Queensland.As I'm an only child,my friends were shocked that my parents could move so far away from me.I just shrugged,not feeling at all fazed by the situation - instead seeing it as an opportunity to have somewhere warm to go on holidays.
But six months into their retirement,my mother phoned to say she had some bad news:Dad had cancer."But don't worry," she told me.It was lymphoma and the doctors had assured her this was the most treatable kind.With chemotherapy,he would be "right as rain" in a couple of months.However,when I arrived in Queensland for a visit two months later,I was shocked by my father's appearance.He was frail,underweight and had lost all his hair from the chemo.Although he was only 65,he looked as though he had aged 20 years.
It was a sad sight and I felt my emotions welling up inside.Before I knew what was happening,I fell upon my dad with hugs and kisses,and for the rst time in my life I said,"I love you,Dad!"He seemed a little taken aback,but awkwardly told me he loved me,too.
But the tidal wave of emotion didn't stop there as I fell upon my mother in the same fashion,expressing my love for her,too.Then I gently pulled away,expecting some kind of reciprocation.But it never came.Instead,she appeared frozen in horror.Hurt and humiliated,I struggled to understand this rejection.What was wrong with me?What was wrong with her?
The holiday was over all too quickly.When I was back at work once again,I overheard a workmate on a personal phone call to her mother.At the end of it she said,"I love you,Mum." As simple as that.Declarations of love were clearly effortless in her family.Why wasn't it like that in mine?Tears welling up,I ran to the toilets,where I cried so hard I thought my heart would break.This wasn't right!Something had to be done about this love situation once and for all.
My opportunity came the next Sunday during my weekly phone call to my mother.After we had dispensed with our usual pleasantries and updates,I took a deep breath and asked,"Do you love me,Mum?" After a short hesitation,she replied brusquely,"You know I love you.Don't be silly."
"Do I don't remember ever hearing it from you."
"Well,we never said things like that in my family."
"Well,I want it to be said in ours.From now on I want to end our conversations with 'I love you.' And that goes for Dad,too."
My mother reluctantly agreed,and for the first time our telephone conversation ended with,"I love you,Mum," and she replied,"I love you,too." Within a short time,"I love you" became easy to say,until it was very natural and we couldn't consider saying goodbye without it.Birthday and Christmas cards went from silly to sentimental,and when Mum bought Dad a Christmas card that year with the words "I love you!" spelt out in holly,I almost cried.
In the meantime,Dad had bravely completed his cancer treatments and,12 months after being diagnosed,thankfully went into remission.A year later the lymphoma ared up again,but once more he valiantly fought it off.
Unfortunately,the stress and worry had taken its toll on my mother,and in May 2000 she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.I was told that only ve per cent of patients survive.
Just five months after being diagnosed,Mum was admitted to hospital.It was a few days before I was due to y out for another visit.Her condition was serious but not critical,and I phoned every morning to check on her.One morning when I rang,she sounded in good spirits,but that evening my instincts told me I needed to ring again.
My worst fear was con?rmed when a nurse answered the phone and regretfully informed me that my mother's condition had rapidly deteriorated.She wasn't expected to make it through the night.
Knowing I couldn't get a fight in time,I asked the nurse to put the phone next to my mother's ear so I could talk to her."She's barely conscious," the nurse replied."It's unlikely she'll hear you." But I didn't care.I wanted to do it anyway.
Once she'd placed the phone by my mother's ear,I started sobbing and telling Mum over and over again that I loved her,hoping she could hear.At rst,all I could hear from the other end was"Hmmmm" - but then,like a miracle,with a deep sigh she said,"Love you ...love you,darling."It was the last thing she said before drifting into unconsciousness.She never spoke again.My mother died at 4 o'clock the next morning,with my father by her side.
Although I was devastated by her death,the startling part was how well I coped.Of course,losing a parent is excruciatingly painful and I shed many tears,but receiving those lovely last words made it much more bearable.I had closure in the best possible way.
Slowly,Dad has now adapted to living alone for the first time in his life.Now that there's just the two of us,we're closer than ever.
Then last year,Dad was diagnosed with cancer again.This time it's skin cancer,and to date he has been through two courses of radiotherapy.I don't know whether Dad will win this latest battle.At 79,he's not as strong as he once was,but he's still as determined as ever to go down ghting.But there is one thing I do know:whatever happens,whatever the future holds - for Dad and for me - our last words to each other will be "I love you." Of that I'm certain.