logo

Contact

logo

No, not contact me, or contact from aliens, I’m talking about human contact.  Being touched, held, hugged, feeling the hands of another on you.  One of the problems with American society is the rigidity of our personal bubbles.  Which is good and bad, as having complete strangers put their hands on your is creepy and disturbing.  But it also means if you aren’t in an intimate sexual relationship with someone, you don’t get touched much.

Yes, my husband and I had sex.  But that isn’t what I miss.  Not really.  I miss the causal brush of his hand across my butt as I walked by.  The hug I’d get when I came home.  The kiss he would drop on my head when I was writing.  The groping of boobs just because he loved them and knew I’d get exasperated with him.  It is the lack of  that causal touch that is a black hole in my life.

I had learned sign language when I was young, and over the years most of the knowledge slipped away.  But the sign for “I love you” never did.  Early in our relationship I showed him that sign.

black_i_love_you_oval_decal

He really liked that idea, and for the rest of our time together, if I walked by his hand would flash me that sign.  When I went in to kiss him good bye in the mornings (I left really early), if he was even partially awake his hand would make that sign to me.

I thought it was amusing and sweet.  Only now that it is gone do I realize how much I’m missing that.  I’d even let him grope my boobs in public if I had him back right now.

So word of wisdom.  Hug your friends, touch the people you care about.  Those little touches are like sunshine to the soul, and while one touch doesn’t do much, they add up quickly and provide something greatly needed by everyone.  Even if they aren’t grieving.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

logo
logo
Powered by WordPress | Designed by Elegant Themes