The Influence of True Love
My name is Mac and I’m a survivor. One of eight kids – yeah, I said eight – I was raised in a middle-class, Irish Catholic household. I’m also the author of several romance novels. So, how does a chick from a middle-class, Catholic upbringing end up writing romance, you ask? Simple. I had a front row seat to a world class love story from the day I was born.
I admit to not always appreciating the experience. I mean, can you imagine how embarrassing it is to a teenager to witness her father patting mom’s ass in appreciation as she passes by him in the kitchen? Gross! But as a grown woman, the memory of the sparks that flew between the two of them, well into their golden years, reinforces my belief in true love. And where true love exists, it can’t be contained in the souls of two. It spills out to enrich the lives of others like a living force. I can attest to the fact that it spilled out to me and my siblings, but it also touched others, like the local florist in my parents’ town.
Every year, a few days before my parents’ wedding anniversary, Dad would stop by her shop. A jovial man, who referred to himself as the fat Irishman with eight kids, he lived his days with humor and hope, and made friends wherever he went. The florist was no exception. Like his yearly order of carnations (Mom’s choice. She’s a pragmatic woman. Carnations last – and they’re cheap) the conversation went pretty much the same way every time. “I need some flowers for Whats-her-name,” he’d say. The florist would laugh and hand over a tiny card on which he would pen a cheesy poem beginning with Roses are Red, Violets are Blue. I can’t tell you how his many poems ended, especially not the ones that made Mom blush, before she tucked the card in her dresser drawer.
Fast forward to 2004. We lost Dad on a clear July day. He didn’t make the trip to the florist’s shop that year, and yet, several months later, on the morning of September 25th (yes, today would have been their 58th anniversary) a clutch of carnations arrived at Mom’s door with a simple card that read: “To Whats-her-name.”
You see, true love not only exists, it doesn’t die. It lives on in the hearts of those it touches. It also reaches out to those in need. My dad was an incredible man and I expect, the best soul I’ll ever have had the privilege to meet as I walk this world. He understood the power of love and his door was forever thrown open to those in need. I like to think he’d approve of my story of humor and hope, and my attempt to lesson the fear of those facing breast cancer, as it was his loving example that led to the writing of Where Would You Like Your Nipple?
What about you? Do you believe in true love? And more importantly, have you witnessed its positive influence, spilling over your life?
Where Would You Like Your Nipple? Available at Amazon
Be sure to leave a comment Mac’s giving away an ecopy of her book, Where Would You Like Your Nipple?