Physical touch

I like a good hug. I know who to go to for a real tight squeeze. Lately I find myself holding on just a bit longer. Flip the coin and you’ll find there are those who don’t enjoy it as much- one of my best girlfriends, in particular. Naturally, that’s who Matt loved to hug the most lol. Her awkward embrace when he would hug her was everything… to him and me 😂.

Early in my career I did a lot of weekly roller sets on elderly ladies. All who came to the salon alone as they, too, were widows. Same with my late Gram. I’d give her a perm in her dining room every other month until she passed at 94. The one thing they, and now me, all have in common was the yearning for physical touch.

Last week when the third door closed after triple drop off, my tears started pouring much like the storm of yesterday. I was so desperate to be held, I drove to my neighbors house. She opened the door, saw my face, and immediately asked what she could do. I asked if we could not talk- if she could just hold me. She sat on the couch, I crawled into her arms, covered us in a blanket, and sobbed for what felt like forever. She held me and neither of us said a word. It’s all I wanted and needed in those moments. Physical touch, to feel safe, and silence.

A few days ago, I came home to our old neighbor from Bedford parked outside of our home. He’ll be 97 in December. He lost his wife this past year and couldn’t take another day of not giving me a hug. We sat on my deck and spoke of our pain and loss. Cried together. Held hands. They had been together for 64 years. Two completely different walks of life, him and I, an extreme age difference, yet sharing the same pain and empathy for one another. It was another dichotomy of pain and beauty.

I’ve said since I became a mother over 8 years ago, the need for a crying infant to be held is the same need as an 8 year old or 5 year old or 2 year old who’s acting out. The more my children misbehave, cry, and whine is a direct indication of how badly they need love. The same goes for adults, in my opinion. I used to tell Matt, the more upset or angry I was, was usually a sign of how badly I needed a hug. The expression of anger is often an expression of pain. The need for physical touch doesn’t lesson with age- in some ways it’s magnified. At least it is for me right now.

The day before Matt passed, we ran quite a few errands and went to a birthday party that night. We held hands in the car all day. It’s often what we did. It creates so much intimacy between two people. That’s the dream right? The picture of two elderly people walking, holding hands? Doesn’t everyone yearn to grow old together and be ‘that’ couple?

After he passed on that wretched day, I just held his hand. I tried to memorize every crease and curve. I ran my fingers over his bracelet and mine- the ones we had just gotten in Florida that I make him wear every year after vacation from our favorite souvenir shop. The one he put on so reluctantly but did so anyway to make me happy. It was our best friend bracelet. The one where when the little beads fall off and you make a wish. I held on as long as I could. Leaving him there, walking out without him, was arguably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. That was a big ask of God that day.

I miss my best friend.