The Art of Caring

I honestly was struggling with a title that somehow included the word ‘caring’ so yes, this title might sound like ‘the art of getting by’ however, the concept is different.

I always used to believe in order for someone to care, they had to somehow physically show it. That way involved actually saying the words “I care about you.” But now at the (wise, if I may say) age of 22, I realize how wrong this mindset is.

For the most part, caring about someone literally has zero to do with how often you say it. The words “I care about you” can even be used to shut someone up just so you don’t have to hear them go on about why you don’t care.

Caring is about the things unsaid. It’s in the “dude don’t even worry about this right now” text or someone actually remembering something you told them a few days ago. Personally, when someone does remember, I’m the one confused because I completely forget it was something I told.

The random memories we have of one another that make us laugh out loud in a public place. It’s seeing something at Target and thinking “he/she would love this.” It’s not skipping through the 30 second commercials asking for donations for orphaned children in foreign countries. It’s sitting there and listening to your mom or dad rant about something even if you aren’t paying attention.

When you find yourself feeling guilty about certain things, it’s not only because you have a conscience, but because you care.

Every single person shows care in their own way. This is something I started to understand not too long ago. I remember when I was sick, my dad didn’t come to see me when I was in a coma or attached to random machines. I think I saw him twice the whole time I was in the hospital. I do remember being angry about this for the months that followed when I came home. I didn’t understand how he just couldn’t care about me.

Eventually when I started getting better, my previous illness came up at the dinner table. All of us would try our best to talk about the funny moments from the hospital, maybe to erase the traumatic ones. My dad was laughing along with us and it slowly got quiet. During this silence I noticed he had tears in his eyes.

“Those months were the hardest. I know you guys are laughing, but that wasn’t a joke. That time was so hard, man. I think about it and I just...”

In that moment, any anger I thought I had left me. That entire time I thought he didn’t come because he didn’t care. He didn’t come because he cared. Seeing your own child not being able to breathe on their own has to be one of the hardest things for any parent to witness. He cared for me by still waking up everyday and going to work, not knowing what news he would receive once he got home. He cared by staying away from me while I was in the ICU so his sadness would not overwhelm me. He cared, he’s always cared.

So you see, the way we show care can be through simply anything. Of course, as humans we all want to actually hear it once in a while, myself included.

But isn’t there supposed to be a beauty behind certain words unspoken?