I remember when I took your new car on the road and wrecked it. I thought you would be livid and come down hard on me, but you didn’t. I remember when we went to the beach and you didn’t want to go because you said it was going to rain. We went and it rained. I was sure you would rub it in and say, ‘I told you so!” But you didn’t. Then there was the time when I spilled blueberry juice down the front of your new tux. I knew you would be upset and blame me. But you didn’t. And remember that formal evening? I was mistaken and told you it was casual. You wore blue jeans and felt like a fish out of water. I was sure you would storm out in anger and leave me standing there. But you didn’t. I wanted to tell you how much I loved you and how much I appreciated you for all those things when you returned from Vietnam. But you didn’t.
Please don’t wait till these praises turn graveside eulogies. Say it if you mean it. Say it when you mean it.
Joe
Me