I Love You Because

Love letter to the one who watches, waits, and calls you by name.

This Morning Offering was written on a trip to the ocean years ago, while learning that as grief lingers, love holds, watches, and waits.

I know now this piece was never only about loss—it stirred up deeper love.

It was about the patient way love helped me find my footing again.

It was about the steady faithfulness of the one walking beside me.

Now I see the long road of healing stretching behind me. It happened—this healing— because someone kept calling my name.

Until I was ready to turn… and pay attention.

---

My father said his hand was still warm. I watched as he took my brother’s hand and held it in his own—warmth against warmth—as if his eyes would open, just one more time.

Sometimes all we can do is hold on…

The bird with the yellow crown, sitting on the rocks, reminded me of him wearing his yellow baseball cap—the water, its playground, as it had once been my brother’s. The boat anchored nearby even looked like his boat.

I had stayed there a long while, taking pictures, capturing it all, as if the scene could bring him back.

It did.

That’s why I stayed.

Our lunch arrived, and through the wind, I heard you call my name, but pretended not to.

It came, again and again—the sound of your voice calling to me—until finally, I turned, breaking the spell.

You were still far off, but by your brow I could tell you were tense.

Our food sat getting cold.

I was selfish that day.

I thought he had come and was there with me on those rocks. We sat staring out to sea together.

He’d been gone only a year by then, but the void seemed a lifetime.

I wanted only to feel the warmth of his hand in mine, assuring me all would be well.

He did.

---

I love you because of that memory—how you had waited that day. And seven years later, how you remembered, pointing out a bird similar, sitting on the rocks, looking out toward the water.

It let me come within five feet of its wing span, you said. Go. Get a picture.

Its regal white feathers, spread wide like an angel’s.

His crown is in heaven… I whispered and wondered.

How is it a heart heals?

---

You watched the couple playing paddle ball, and suddenly, sat up. You said, She’s hurt. Then you watched as she shook it off.

I love you because you were ready to go and help her if needed.

---

We sat in the beauty, watching, and waiting for lunch.

You noticed the caterpillar on your leg and marveled at its countless legs, scooping it up in your hand.

You set it back on its leaf and said, There you go.

We watched as it struggled, then found its way.

I love you because you noticed.

---

I love you because you looked, you studied, and you searched for that out-of-the-way place that just happened to have two chairs beneath the shade of a tree.

The sun was high and hot. My skin had craved the light. But that day I wore blisters.

I’d known better.

You had warned me.

---

I watched as you walked far down the beach, away from the rocks. You swam out past the waves. Undaunted by the undercurrent, you dove.

I ran towards you.

I didn’t want to lose you.

---

Come by my side, you said, when I lost my balance near the railing. Stay here, don’t go there.

You spoke gently. I noticed your face had paled. The hill was steep.

---

I love you, my darling, because we have grown from two into one, yet remained you and I, not just we.

I love you because you are you, I am me, and yet, we are we.

I love you because.

Just because.

---

Letters from the Road Home: where we turn and pay attention.

Come sit with me. Let’s see what we notice.