Hope

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My whole life I've waited for my father to give me a hug.

I'm over 50. And for 50 years my dad has been an enigma wrapped in a puzzle. I think that I new that he loved me. I know that if I was in trouble that he would come to help me in his way. The thing is that the simple everyday affection eluded him. My mother would say, "Well your father's not had an easy time of it. You just have to trust me when I tell you that he love love you. He just doesn't know how to say it."

So I lived each day on the hope that what she said was true.

As time passed, the fact that he never really hugged my neck made me keenly aware of how important that gesture is. I taught my son to hug. I hugged the homeless lady who was hot and tired and just needed to know that someone cared that she was alive. I hugged the complete stranger in the elevator who looked at me and said out of the blue, "My day's not been so good. My son just died." Each time I hugged a stranger or hugged my son I was trying to hug my dad too. Trying in some cosmic way to give him that affection that, even though he had money and things, just never seemed to come.

Then one day two weeks ago I got a call. My dad was in Intensive Care. They were pretty sure he was going to die. The days after were a blur. The first time I went to see him in Intensive Care I wasn't even allowed to touch him. He was unconscious. All I could do was talk and hope that he heard me. When he finally opened his eyes, it was a miracle. You see there was still hope that I could get a hug from my dad.

I'm proud to say that after over 50 years of hope?

I got my hug and he meant it.

I'm wondering now if there was a reason it took so long to get that hug. If I'd gotten it sooner? I'm not sure I'd known how important it was to hug that homeless lady or the lady in the elevator. I thing I might have taken that simple act of kindness for granted.


True story.

Love,

AuthorAnn

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