Five years ago today, I turned 49. I received all the usual calls from family and friends. The last call, shortly after GB was in bed, was from my father. He wished me a Happy Birthday and made lots of small talk. I was on the phone with him for a long time, which was unusual. Just as we were saying our goodbyes, I heard “I love you”. We hung up. I cried.
In 49 years, that was the first time I remember my father saying “I love you”. It was the only memory I have of him saying “I love you”. He didn’t live to see me turn 50.