The Hug
I’ve probably written about hugs before, but I’m going to do it again. Met with a group of friends last night to cook dinner and there were hugs all around, coming and going. It’s a huggy crowd, and I love it. It’s the magic of the human touch. We do it when we greet. We do it when we leave. Some hugs are tight, some are perfunctory, some linger. All are intended to convey the idea someone cares for you.
I’ve only met one person who didn’t want to be hugged and she’d just lost a son and not being acclimated to Texas was feeling sort of overwhelmed by all the physical attention. I hope eventually she realized the hugs were there to shore her up and bring her peace, because that’s what they did for me when my wife died. Friends and strangers alike passed along kind words and their physical touch. It was sweet.
Lack of hugs is probably the biggest issue plaguing seniors who live alone. Luckily, even though I’m a senior and live alone, I get around, and my kids come see me with their kids and that’s a hug fest from start to finish. Plus, I have friends with kids and their kids have taken a shine to me. So, I get my fair share of prophylactic hugs and I’m glad of it. And if you’re out there and we’re going to see each other soon, be prepared for a hug. It’s the abundant treasure I have to share. And while you’re waiting, be on the lookout for anyone you think might need a hug, because chances are, they do.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale