Love, to me, looks like an alcoholic who, even in the throes of a horrible addiction, was the one person in the world who loved his little girl.
Love, to me, looks like an 8x10 picture of a man holding his newborn baby girl in one hand and looking at her as if she is the only person in the entire world.
Love, to me, is a Father who gets all tongue twisted at the mention of his little girl’s boyfriend.
Love, to me, is that same Father who, when asked, “Who gives this woman away?” says, “I don’t want to, but I guess I will.”
Love, to me is a Father who listens patiently as his daughter talks about marriage troubles that he has already been through and says, “Well, Little Girl, it will all work out for the best.”, and then pats her on the head as if she is only a child.
Love, to me, is a daughter who cooks dinner for daddy and brings it to him when he is sick.
Love, to me, is a daughter who holds her daddy’s hand when he is afraid to go to the doctor.
Love, to me, is a daughter who, after the doctor tells her daddy he has cancer and not long to live, says, “Daddy, don’t you worry, it’ll all work fine.”, and then rushes outside to cry.
Love, to me, is a daughter who walks into a hospital and, for the first time sees how small and fragile her Father, her favorite man, has become, and walks to the bedside and cradles his head like he is a sick child.
To me, love looks like a person, any person, who would do anything for the person that they love. Love looks like memories of important stages in your life with that one person a constant in all of them. That is what love looks like to me.