This reminds me of my parents. After my daddy finished eating a meal, he'd get up from the kitchen table, wrap his arms around my mom, embrace her 'girls,' kiss her on the cheek, and tell her, "Thanks, Mamma, for the good supper (or whatever meal it was)."
My daddy shared some sad stories about his childhood, and I think that's why he always appreciated food on the table, a warm bed to sleep in, and a wife who was a darned good cook and baker. Every kindness was something to be thankful for.
Two stories in particular stick in my mind. The one was when he was a little boy, he dreaded going upstairs to bed, because in the wintertime snowflakes would fall down on top of him. He would be so cold, all he wanted to do was fall asleep as fast as he could.
The other story he told us was about his only and treasured toy....a train car. One day his sister tattled on him for doing something to her (that he didn't do), and as his punishment, his mother threw the train car down the hole in the outhouse. That was the end of his train car, and he never received another toy after that. When he became a teenager, he was farmed out to earn money that he, in turn, had to give back to his parents.
Life maybe didn't treat him the way he deserved to be treated, but he sure knew how to show his love and appreciation to his own family with genuine open-faced affection.....like thanking mamma for the good meals she fixed for us.