Show respect for the ones you love

Beverly Beckham

The Boston Globe

I took it out on him, the person I love most. We do this sometimes. It was over the silliest thing: wreath hangers that went missing.

"Did you move those wreath hangers that were in Julie's room?" he asked, poking his head into my office. "I thought I left them there." I should have stopped what I was doing right then. Got up from my chair and helped him. If a friend had lost something, if a stranger had knocked on my door and said, "I had wreath hangers tied to the Christmas tree I have on my roof and they must have come undone because they're not there now," I would have put on my shoes,grabbed my coat, and joined him in his search.

But my husband came knocking and I was too busy to help. Doing what, I wonder? Paying bills that could wait, answering e-mails that could wait, reading something so uninteresting that I've already forgotten what it was (definitely could wait). I shooed him away for some big, important thing I can't even recall.

Upstairs. Downstairs. In the hall closet. In the linen closet. In his car. In mine. I let him search on his own.

And when, empty-handed, he stood again at my office door and shrugged and said, "They'll turn up, eventually," I still did nothing. It was only when he grabbed his keys and headed for his car that I thought, I should at least check Julie's room. And what do you know, under an empty, green trash bag on what used to be our youngest daughter's bed, voilk: wreath hangers.

It's funny, really. "You didn't see them? Well, of course you didn't. I wouldn't have seen them, either." That's what I would have said when we were young and dating. "Silly goose." "If they were any closer, they would have bitten you."

A smile. A hug. A joke.A kiss. And this would have passed.

But we aren't dating. We've been married for 40-plus years. And so I didn't smile or hug or joke or kiss. I said to this person I've lived with for decades, this person who has had my back my whole adult life, what you say to your kids sometimes when you're frustrated, when you come home after a long day and the house is a mess, dirty dishes in the sink, food on the counters, the TV blasting. I said, "What is wrong with you?" A valid question, really. Why can't you help me out a little? Why can't you load the dishwasher? Why can't you pick up after yourselves? Why can't you see what is right under your nose? All valid questions. But not when spit out in anger. Not when their intent is to hurt someone you love.

Later, I apologized. After I stopped justifying my anger. After I took a step back and looked at what had happened with reason, not rage.

In hindsight I saw clearly and regretfully what a jerk I'd been.

The straw really does break the camel's back. We lose our tempers over the littlest things. But this is not about our tempers or the straw or wreath hangers. This is about respect. This is about how we treat the people we love.

Our husbands, our kids, our parents, our families — they don't always see us at our best. They love us anyway. And we love them.

The disagreements. The sighs. The rolled eyes. The frustrations — all part of the mix of people living together. We can't always be holding hands and singing Kumbaya.

But we can always treat the people we love the way we would treat any stranger. With patience. "Do you need some helpwith that?" With kindness, "It wasn't your fault." With understanding, "I'm sorry that happened to you," and, above all, the most important, with respect.