“The only abnormality is the incapacity to love.”–Anais Nin
The very first time I can remember the words I love you came from my mother. My cousin, Miles died from cancer when he was about three-years old. My family took his death hard, especially my uncle and my father. Soon after Miles death my father began telling me more and more how much he loved me. I often wondered, did my dad know something about the future that I did not? Was I going to die soon like my cousin-Miles? Strangely as I write today, I remember the last time I spoke with my father and he told me he loved me. If I counted all the times my mother, my siblings and my ex-wife told me they loved me combined it would not come close to the many times my father told me he loved me. One day I received a phone call informing me my father had passed away. I dropped the phone and fell hard to the floor because I was suffering a massive heart attack . I lay on the floor unable to catch my breathe, but I could hear my father’s voice one last time:
“I love you.”
Since my father’s death the word’s ‘I love you’ have taken on a much greater importance and power to me. I now understood the delicate existence we all are apart of; we never know when our last moments of life will be. Now, like my father I look upon the people most dear to me and I have this unquenchable desire to verbalize how I feel about them with just three words–I love you.
I have never been to jail and it is only because of my father’s love. My father was good friends with the Sheriff who ran the county jail and my father arranged for me to spend about thirty-five minutes in lock up. The ruse was my father had a meeting with the Sheriff and the only safe place for me to wait in was an empty jail cell. Once my father and the Sheriff left me a really tough looking guy walked in front of my jail cell and questioned me on why I was in jail. I told him I did nothing wrong and that I was just waiting for my father. He cursed at me, spat on the floor and called me a liar. A second inmate asked me who I shot; this really troubled me because I was only ten-years old.
I clapped back:
“I didn’t shoot anybody!”
Again, I was called a liar.
A third inmate asked me if I stole a car. I shook my head as if to wonder, are all these men crazy? Not much later my father and the Sheriff returned and they had big smiles on their faces. My father asked me if I was alright. I could not wait to get out of that trap! Once outside my father asked if I was hungry and we got in the car and drove to a favorite restaurant called Howard Johnson’s. We booth took our seats and both ordered hamburgers, fries and Coke. I watched as my father pulled out a hanky and wipe his eyes. He looked deep into my eyes and he began to speak slow and almost in a whisper.
“Charlie, that place we just left is just a shit-hole if there ever was one. I’m telling you son, you never want to end up there. I hate that place. They feed you worse than a dog. Tell you when to go to the bathroom, when to eat, when to sleep, and when to get up. Charlie, if you ever go to jail I will take all of your stuff and put it on the front lawn. Me and your mother will not let you back in our house. Me and your mother can help you get anything you want, but stealing and robbing is not going to be tolerated. You understand me son?”
I nodded yes but was in total shock.
Not long after my father’s warning my best friend drove up in a red GTO and asked me to go for a ride with him. I told him that would be out of the question because I knew he’d stolen the car. My friend pressed me hard and then he asked me if I was afraid and I told him I was. He laughed and quickly drove off. Well, as you would have guessed my friend was stopped by the police and was arrested for stealing a car. Sadly, most of my childhood friends have a police record. I really wish more fathers would tell their sons how much they love them and that jail will destroy so many opportunities that lay before them. Life becomes more beautiful for all concerned when we can simply say to our family and friends the simple words of,
I LOVE YOU.
Charles Micheaux
Atlanta*
MICHEAUX PUBLISHING 