The Colour of Love

I have been married, to the love of my life, for over twenty years. So I know that whenever I hear the Van Morrison song, “Have I told you lately, that I love you,” I should think of my wife.

But to be honest, when I hear that song, the first person I think of is another woman– a woman I met many years before my wife and changed me in every way a man can be changed.

I have never been a person that was interested in getting a tattoo on my body. It always felt too permanent to me. I have no problem with other people that choose to ink their body, it just never appealed to me personally.

But because of this woman, that has changed me; I wear one tattoo with pride. I made a promise to myself and to her, on that day, that it would be the only tattoo I would ever have.

I have kept that promise.

The tattoo is a heart, placed over my heart, with a banner through the centre of it. Above the heart is a date, 02/19/78. Along the banner, directly above my heart, is a woman’s name.

That name is Susan and that woman is my daughter.

But this story is not about that day but another day, many years later. It was the day that I came to fully understand my daughter and, I believe, she came to fully understand me.

****

I remember everything about that day, except the exact date.

I remember it was late September and the trees were slowly changing their summer green shirt for a colourful fall jacket, in preparation for winter – that magical time of year when the sun hung low in a bright blue sky, almost like a spot-light, shining down on the masterpiece that was natures unveiling.

It’s been almost twenty-five years since that day but the emotions I felt as she stood before me and told me her truth, with fear in her eyes, have lived in my heart every day since. The pride I felt for her as she stared into my eyes, with hope and courage, will forever be etched into my soul.

I know she felt fear about how I would take this news and that upset me a little. I felt at that moment that she didn’t really understand who I was, just as I didn’t really understand who she was.

I did the only thing I could think of at that moment–I pulled her into my arms and kissed her before telling her I loved her and would support who she is until my dying day.

Two years ago, I wrote a poem about that day and posted it on Vocal. It is the most important and satisfying thing I have ever written.

I remember the day that I showed that poem to my daughter and watched as she read it with tears in her eyes, before hugging me close and crying in my arms.

Below is that poem;

***

My Favourite Colour is You

I remember the day that you told me

That colourful day in late September

You were much younger then;

Barely finished your teens

But growing so quick

The autumn colours were coming fast.

All red and gold splendour

Join us you said, the time is ripe

Our favourite golden’s we’d pick.

*******

I remembered the little girl.

I carried on my shoulders.

Laughing with joy

As she picked the golden ones

While walking through the orchard.

*****

I remembered all the firsts that I was lucky to see

The first time you crawled

The first time you walked

The first time you talked

You did them all for me.

*****

I remember being confused on that September day

When you insisted on two cars for four people

But your mom said she wanted to talk

So, curious, I said ok

*****

You and your roommate said follow us

And pulled away first

I followed with your mom

Fearing the worst

*****

Your mom and I had finished years before

But we were still close friends

And knowing she had health issues,

This would be bad news, I felt, for sure.

*****

The news she had wasn't bad at all, actually.

When I asked about her health

She said she was fine and this is not about her

It was something our daughter

Needed to tell me.

*****

I knew where this was going.

And when she asked how I felt

About our daughter's roommate

I said that I loved her

And I thought that she was great.

*****

We didn't talk for a while, just enjoying the drive

It was one of those days; you were glad to be alive.

*****

My mind wandered back to treasured memories

Of times long ago, playing in your room

Colouring in your book

Just you and me

*****

I remember teaching you the names.

Gold, red, yellow, orange, green and blue

You said your favourite was gold

And asked, what’s your favourite colour, daddy?

You laughed when I said,

“My favourite colour, honey, Is you.”

*****

Calling you a colour was hard for you to follow

So I explained that some colours show emotion

Red is feeling angry, and Sad is feeling blue

Feeling happy is feeling yellow.

*****

You asked, “So what emotion is my colour, daddy.”

“Your colour is the most important, my little dove.”

"What is it, daddy? Is it very special?"

"Yes, honey. To daddy, your colour is love."

*****

Many times over the years, I've said

You're my favourite colour, to you.

Many times you’ve said it to me

And I know you mean, I love you too.

*****

I remember when we got close to the farm that day

You called your mother as I was driving

And I heard her say

"Ok, honey, I’ll tell him now. We’re just arriving."

*****

As we pulled into the lot,

“They sleep in the same bed.” said your mother

I laughed at her choice of words,

“Well, how else would they sleep? I know they love each other.”

*****

I parked the car and walked towards you.

You stood there looking almost afraid, looking blue.

The look of fear in your eyes broke my heart

Until I hugged you tight and kissed your cheek

Before looking into your eyes and saying,

“My favourite colour is you.”

*****

I think you were worried

You’d disappoint me in some way

But my favourite colour is you

And I’ll support who you are

until my dying day.

*****

Many years have passed.

She found another and was gone.

Your heart was broken

Wondering what you’d done wrong

*****

Your colours changed

All red and blue

I felt your pain

But what could I do?

*****

Your colour was love.

But now it was gone

That is until the day

That she came along.

*****

The first day I met her.

Was the day that I knew.

Because your colour was back

To the colour of you.

*****

Proud moments arrive

In this thing, we call life

One of my proudest is

When you made her your wife.

*****

Proud moments are plenty

Between a girl and her father

But my proudest by far is when

You gave me a granddaughter.

*****

Now I sit with this little girl

Just us in her room

Showing her the colours

And explaining the moon

She asks, “What are these ones?”

I say, “Red, Yellow and Blue.”

“What’s your favourite colour, poppy?”

I smile through my tears.

“My favourite colour is you.”