I shook someone’s hand today. I hugged a pastor yesterday. I embraced family on Christmas. Why should these things stand out? Why must they be remarked upon?
I wasn’t raised with a lot of physical affection. My dad was breaking a cycle of abuse and my mom came from a reserved Anglo family.
When I met my wife, we had the physical passion of new lovers, but she introduced me to a casual affection that stirred a longing in me. I remember the first hippy camping festival we attended together: her friends, total strangers to me, hugged me and said, “Welcome home.” It was not comfortable, I hadn’t experienced that kind of openness before. It took me years to open myself to friendly, physical gestures like that. It wasn’t until I held my first son that I began to understand how important physical connection is for me.
This year has been a cruel reminder of how much I crave physical, mental, and spiritual closeness with people.
I didn’t need a reminder. Widowhood has meant plenty of isolation.