Sometimes What I Miss Are The Hugs

I lost my mother in 1995.  I used to wonder why people said “lost”, as though we had misplaced her, but once it happened, I knew we had indeed lost something.  Oddly, or perhaps not, my sisters and I became much closer after my mother was gone, and we still are.   Close enough that I have friends who think it’s weird.

But about hugs.  I grew up in a big Greek family – while my “immediate” family was only my sisters, me and my mother – we had a plethora of aunts, uncles, and cousins, near and far, and we saw all of them.  A lot.  And my Greek family at least is very touchy.  We hug, we kiss (often on the lips), we stroke arms or backs or legs, we hold hands – you get the idea.

So I grew up thinking that touching everyone around you was normal.  That hugging and kissing on meeting and leaving are normal.  That taking someone’s hand, especially during a difficult conversation, is normal.

But wait, you say, you work in theater!  People in theater hug and kiss each other all the time!  They touch each other – a lot!  Sure.  That’s true.  But the hug and kiss (lately, the double cheek kiss) have basically replaced the handshake as a conventional greeting.  So it’s not the same thing at all.

Just a little human contact is all I ask, without someone reacting as though I’ve invited them to join me in uninhibited and riotous sexual exploits.  We’ve lost the art of the intimate, yet non-sexual, touch, and I, for one, miss it.  I’m tired of holding back, or being embarrassed by the reaction of a close friend when I unthinkingly touch them or take their hand.

True story – I was well into adulthood when my mother had the stroke that began her decline.  When she was in the ICU, luckily at a hospital where she had worked and they knew us, I would spend the night with her.  Once evening rounds were over, I would climb into her bed, carefully avoiding all the wires and tubes, so she could sleep with her good arm around me.  And no-one thought it was anything but normal.