Answer to both questions:

My late Uncle Mark Domurad. He had a tumor in his brain for years and this was during my angry phase in which I wasn't close to anyone in my family. I had begun to emerge from it, slightly, when he went into remission and we began to talk more. He was an engineer, and quite simply an absolutely brilliant man. He could build anything you wanted, rarely rose his voice, and loved his family.

Then he fell off a building. He died on the first day of Christmas vacation in my 8th grade year. It was at his funeral that I cried for the first time at a funeral in my life. My Aunt Sharon, his wife, was always the one telling jokes at family gatherings and laughing and smiling. Her sobs shook the walls of the church and as she leaned on his casket, tears streaming from her eyes down the side of the wooden box which contained what was once her husband and she asked God what right he had, I regretted everything I'd done up until that point in my life.

There was a gathering at her house later, for I hesitate to call it a party, and it was at the end of this gathering that I hugged Aunt Sharon from 7:48 to 7:53 and repeated "I love you" over, and over, and over. She is now one of five family members to whom I say "I love you" at greeting and departure.

So, if I were to say "I love you" to anyone, it would be Uncle Mark, because I never said it in the years preceding his death. If i were to apologize to anyone, it would be Uncle Mark, because I never said "I love you."

Nothing makes me feel sexier than walking about in my hoopskirt, Mary Janes, pearl necklace, and white apron as I cook dinner from 8 am to 4:47 pm for my husband when he returns from work. Then, as he raises his hand to strike me across the face, I know that he loves me, and later that night, as I close my eyes and pretend I'm somewhere else as he rams himself into me, I feel truly, truly sexy.

I want them to know I love them, with all of my heart. There's nothing more I want for my family.