Growing up, I don't recall hearing "I love you" from my father. When a father never says those words to his child, it becomes increasingly difficult for him to say them as he ages. Honestly, I couldn't remember the last time I'd said them to him either. I decided to set my ego aside and make the first move. After some hesitation, I blurted out, "Dad... I love you!" during our next phone call.
Silence followed on the other end before he awkwardly replied, "Well, same back at ya!"
I chuckled and said, "Dad, I know you love me. When you're ready, I know you'll say what you want to say."
Fifteen minutes later, my mother called nervously, "Paul, is everything okay?"
A few weeks later, Dad concluded our call with, "Paul, I love you." I was at work, and tears rolled down my cheeks as I finally "heard" his love. In that tearful moment, we both realized our relationship had reached a new level.
Shortly after, my father narrowly survived heart surgery. I've often pondered since: if I hadn't taken that first step, and if he hadn't survived, I would never have "heard" his love.