Men with the last name of Page

This Valentine's Day I wasn't with my husband. I was with two other men whom I love very much, albeit in a very different way.

Valentine's Day, which, yes, is important to me, was spent at my parents house on a small extended weekend getaway.

I woke up, came downstairs and low and behold, there was a Valentine from my Dad. Complete with an antique Band-aid tin filled with Hershey Kisses. Yes, tears came from my eyes.

My dad and I were never close growing up. I would say it wasn't until I moved out that I realized just how important he was to me and how I should have listened to him more growing up. And its true, you never really realize how much your parents sacrificed for you or tried to guide you until they aren't there anymore. It's a shame that we (as teenagers collectively) don't see it sooner. But I prefer to think there is some mental block that doesn't mature until a certain age so I won't blame myself.

That being said, my Dad is the way he is because of his Dad. My grandpa was the epitome of loving. He loved in so many ways, even if none of them were words or gifts. Grandpa Harvey grew gardens acres big and then picked them and left baskets on the doorsteps of people he heard at the morning coffee shop gossip needed food. Many didn't know who the donor was, but if there were potatoes and carrots in it, my guess is Grandpa left it.

He wintered in Florida and was gone for months at a time. When he was on the farm he always had peppermint or butterscotch candies in his truck and would hand us one after he asked us if we wanted a kiss. Of course, we would sneak into his truck for "kisses" when he wasn't looking. He would worry about every step we took, every motor we started and every crazy action we (well, namely Kyle) tried. But he did it with love. There was never, ever a doubt he loved us, even if he never said it.

This was passed onto my father. He may not say it much, he may not hug me much, but his love is very apparent these days. I know he is proud of me. I've made a lot of mistakes in my short life. But through it all, I've managed to pick myself back up, sometimes with his help, and in the process I gave him the greatest gift I could ever give him. Grandsons.

And in the back corner, watching, loving and smiling is my brother, Kyle. He is so much like my Dad in so many ways. He doesn't hug, he doesn't say I love you (at least to me) but the way he interacts with me and my children leaves no doubt that he would do anything for us that we may need. He worries about the kids, plays with them even when he isn't in the mood, and through it all, is passing his sense of family onto his nephews.

The Page men are selfless. They Love with their whole heart, but are fragile. They may not always show it, but they are emotionally guarded. They worry about their community, their friends, their family, and they love them just the same. Page men will be the first ones to give out their phone number to someone new in town to help with anything they may need and the first to help out if something needs done, without thinking about whats in it for them. They are selfless, humble, and caring.

There are many Page men in the family, uncles, cousins, grandpa's, nephews, and sons. Some are deceased and some are still living. And I can't think of a single one of them that wasn't raised and practiced the very same values.

I am proud to be a Page and even prouder that my sons will get to be exposed to the humanity that my family practices.

As it is, I see my Dad melt a little when Oliver says, "HI PAAAAAAAAAAAAAPAAAAAAA!"