To Die For One of my piano pieces is a tune I've always called:
"I Say It Often."
     In my head, the first line of melody always plays out as

I say it all the time
I do
but just because it's often doesn't mean its not true

     You may remember me mentioning once, in passing, that my wife and I have a somewhat gender-reversed relationship. Reversed, that is, in comparison to the gender stereotypes society saddles us with.

     You see, while Heather is petit and cute, she is strong and capable in ways normally not considered feminine. She once physically--and painfully--subdued an escaped suspect fleeing the court room at 38th District Court. She is a probation officer, and keeps tight control of her wards. She loves sports, has a Honda Shadow motorcycle, can't stand wearing skirts (she looks mighty fine in a pair of jeans, though!) and is never squeamish around gore or injuries. She loves big dogs, doesn't care for cats, and would rather watch COPS than Oprah. She's handy around the house, and isn't afraid to tackle a project.

     What about me? Well, I'm physically strong, and I exhibit many exaggerated secondary masculine characteristics. But... I like cats. I hate sports. I can't do home repair or improvement unless it involves electronics. I love to talk about relationships and feelings. I love to cuddle, and I want to lie there and talk after making love.

     Heather...not so much. She has never been a cuddler, and tolerates me doing so for short stretches of time. And after making love she usually passes out for the night. I can talk to her at that point, but not with her. Heh-heh.
Opposites attract, right? We've been together for ten years come this fourth of July, and have already been married for more than 5 years. We love each other dearly.

     Back when I composed the tune mentioned above, we had been together for four years. Almost the entire time we'd been together I had been telling Heather I loved her multiple times a day--another of those things I do that defies gender stereotype.
     Hardly any conversation could go by without me saying, "I love you," or, "you're my favorite person." I was starting to worry that I was cheapening the statement in her eyes, and that the sincerity of my sentiments might seem to be lost due to repetition. This is still the case today.

I say it all the time
I do
but just because it's often doesn't mean its not true.

     But now we have Samantha. Sam Ann Whited, age four. She's beautiful, smart, considerate (for a four year old), helpful in a destructively well-meaning sort of way, and she doles out love and affection to everyone around her, even children she meets in the park. I have been telling Sammy that I love her multiple times a day.
     Hardly any conversation goes by without me saying, "I love you," or, "you're my favorite little girl." But with Sam I never worry that it my sentiments are becoming cheapened.
     On the contrary, when she throws her little arms around my neck and says, "I love you too, Daddy," I know I can never say it enough.

     When I was young I sometimes wondered if I would, should the situation ever arise, be able to make the ultimate sacrifice and die so that someone else might live. I doubted I would. I felt guilty about it.
     After I fell in love with Heather I revisited this thought and realized I probably would, if only for her. It still seemed to me that it would be a hard decision to make, but if the need arose I would definitely die for Heather. But then Sam came along.

     After Samantha was born the list of people I would die for grew by one. When I revisit the question in my head now, would I voluntarily give up my life if it would save the life of someone else, I realize that the answer, when it comes to Sam, is gladly.

And I would go with a smile, and a single tear for missing what comes next.  ¶ 7:56 AM