What's love got to do with it?

I watched recently as a young girl of perhaps 12 snuggled up close to her grandmother, whose health is rapidly declining.  The girl might not understand truly what dying is but she knows that something big is changing about her grandmother and she doesn't like it--she wants to hang on to things the way they've always been.

Grandparents are a constant.  They (we) aren't seen daily so the good days and bad days aren't so obvious.  They (we) are always good and generous and happy.

My grandson fell recently and had to have stitches on his chin.   His doctor dad did the stitching (and did a fine job, by the way) while doctor mom and I held him down.  It wasn't fun. 

The biggest heartbreak was when Ephraim wouldn't hug his dad when it was all over.   The good news is that he was over it by the next day.

But later that same night I was laying in bed feeling guilty.   An odd emotion under the circumstances.  I wasn't there when it happened and it was unpreventable anyway.   He had spent the afternoon rock hopping on Middle Prong above Tremont and then slipped in the tub during his nightly bath.  If an accident was going to happen, you would have thought it would be in the mountains.

I found myself, easily the least important person in this whole equation, wondering what I could have done for this to not have happened.  What could I do to take away the pain? 

I've written before about my mom's statement to me when I was young:  "You never know what love is until you have one of your own."   Mostly true, it sure hit home with this case.

I've tackled topics here far and wide.  Despite advice against it, I've covered religion and politics and what it takes to be a good parent.  But never love.

So, what is love?

I can tell you that love isn't a feeling, yet you might not know it has hit you until it hits you.  

We say we love bacon or ice cream or red velvet cake but is that the same as the love we feel for our spouse, children, or significant other? 

True love isn't a feeling or a desire.   Love isn't sex (uh-oh...there's another taboo subject).

Love is honest.  Love is happy.  Love is unconditional. 

Love is doing things that you might not really like to do.   I don't really like to shop.  Well, maybe that's not quite true.  I like to "buy" but not "shop." But I do it.

I hate vacuuming the floors but if my wife asks, I do it.  I hate Brussel Sprouts.  I used to hate broccoli but not anymore.  I don't think I will ever not hate Brussel Sprouts. 

If you truly love someone, when they hurt, you hurt.  When little Ephraim split his chin open, I hurt.  When my daughter had to hold him down, I hurt for her.  And when Ephraim wouldn't hug his dad, my heart ached.

Maybe that's what it's all about.