Why I Tell My Son I Love Him Every Day


While playing with wooden trains with my son yesterday, a memory came to me. I don't know why or how it came to me, but it's something I've thought about only once in a few years.

When I was a youngster (around elementary school age), I remember a priest telling a story in one of his sermons. He said that one day he found a man crying alone at the back of the church. The priest went up to the man and asked him what was wrong. The man told the priest that his son just died. In an attempt to comfort him, the priest told him that his son was now in heaven with God. Then the man told the priest that he wasn't crying because his son died; he was crying because he didn't tell his son that he loved him.

Even though I don’t remember exactly who the priest was or specifically how old I was, the powerful message still stuck with me years later. 

When our son was born, my wife and I agreed that even though we didn’t have all the money to spoil our son financially, but we would give him all the love we could possibly give.  There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t tell him that I love him.  Even though he is only 17 months old, I know he can understand that in some shape or form.  Heaven forbid that anything were to happen to either of us, but no matter what, he would know that he is truly loved and his father absolutely loves him.

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