…… has changed me.

First, you should know that this is not something I sit around thinking about. It’s not something I ponder, obsess over or even mourn.
On a regular basis.

In fact, I hadn’t really thought about it in years.
And then one day recently …… I did.
It was after I went to Texas to stay with my grands for a few days while their parents when out of town.

I need to regress a bit for some backstory.
I came from a pretty affectionate family. We kissed and hugged on the regular. Still do when we see each other.
Jim came from a …… a family with German ancestors. On both sides.
Nuff said.

However, he was very affectionate towards me and the kids. And with my family.
And so it went.
Until almost 18 years ago.
And then, all that affection from him was gone.
In the blink of an eye.
And slowly but ever so surely, the kids’ German DNA started kicking in.
(It had already kicked in before then for a couple of them.)
Kisses were pretty much gone, replaced by hugs.
And I was okay with that because a good hug is usally better than a kiss.

Time went on, as time tends to do.
The kids moved out and on with their lives.
And touch moved out with them.

And now, I have realized that its absence has changed me.
I forget to hug.
I’m usually surprised when a friend opens up their arms to hug.
I totally love it, but I’m surprised.

Funnily enough, my grandkids have helped me to forget to hug.
A few of them are not huggers and thankfully, their parents don’t force them to hug people when they don’t want to.
I’m proud of them for that.
But truthfully, it also makes me sad.
I miss those hugs I never got.

I never expect anyone to hug me.
So on this past trip to Texas, I forgot to hug my daughter until the day after I arrived, when it occurred to me that I hadn’t done it.
It bothered me.
Yes, seeing the grands is exciting and distracting …… but still.

I did it again when they came to visit me here a couple of weeks ago.
When I remembered, I started to ponder.
I have lived alone so long now that I have forgotten to hug.
Or maybe, just maybe, I have made myself forget.

When I really sat with this, I thought that maybe, in order to not miss touch …… I forgot
about it.
I blocked it.
Perhaps I thought that you can’t miss something if you don’t remember it.

But the body is a pretty amazing and complicated thing.
I don’t know what any “professional” would say, but I can say with 100% certainty that any widowed person or parent who’s lost a child will tell you that the body has a remarkable memory.
Even when the mind doesn’t.

So when I sat down and made myself remember …… I was okay.
I can think about the lack of touch and hugs (long, strong hugs, not those awkward side things!) and not feel sad.

Then I remembered what I deeply, deeply miss but forgot …… and the tears came.
Just as they are now as I type these words.
I miss being held.
Being held because I’m sad.
Being held because I’m sobbing.
Being held because I’m angry.
Being held because I’m hurting.
Being held because I’m happy.
And yes, being held because I’m loved.

The lack of touch has changed me.
But it hasn’t changed my body’s memory.