Hugs...

There is a flow of loving energy when we hug, and it transcends words.

For a few years during the pandemic, we were taught to fear each other. To jump away when someone sneezed or coughed. We were instructed to wear masks and maintain social distancing. Some families fell apart due to fear of the consequences of hugging each other. Some familial and friendships have not recovered from the separations we all endured. We stopped hugging.

Hugs are so important.

This week, I saw a gentleman alight from the limousine as our family arrived at the chapel. His grief is deep, and during our family meetings, he had always made a point of putting his arm out, so we could shake hands when I arrived and left. On that day, his arms opened wide, and we hugged. All I said was hello and his name.

In unfamiliar surroundings, at the worst time, a familiar face, who is calm and knows what to do, is comforting. There are many hugs exchanged, and I always hug the funeral director and their team. To me, they are my family, and we have gathered together to look after our family.

Afterwards, as I was walking over to the car park with some of our congregation, another hearse left, and the driver and his team and I waved to each other. A gentleman, walking beside me, asked how I knew them. I explained that funeral celebrants are independent, and funeral directors and arrangers call us when they feel we are the right person to help them look after their family. He paused for a moment, hugged me and said he didn't know that happened, and it was lovely.

On my drive home, a memory surfaced.

When Emily, my daughter, was in Year 1 at primary school, a teacher's assistant position became available in the nursery/reception unit for one term of maternity cover. The business I was running from home could be done in the evenings, so I applied. It was wonderful going to school with Emily, and I have happy memories of my term there. I learned a lot about the workings of a school, and even more about the rules and regulations. I am going back nearly three decades, but even then, the constraints being placed on society and the people working in the system were becoming evident.

We were told that we could not hug the children. We could hold their hands and comfort them with words, but holding them was off limits. I understood the reasoning behind the rule, but the children in our care were four years old and adjusting to being in a different environment away from home. Every child was unique, and some struggled more than others, especially those who only came for half a day.

Some children were there all day, and some only attended for the morning or afternoon session. At lunchtime, parents would gather outside the classroom entrance, some to collect their little ones, others to drop them off.

There was one little one who sobbed every time. She had been at home with her dad all morning, and she didn’t want to come to school. I don’t recall how many days I watched her crying, as a teacher led her by the hand into the classroom, after her poor dad had taken her little arms from around him. He, too, left with tears in his eyes, and I have no doubt he felt rotten all afternoon.

One lunchtime, I broke ranks. Had a word with the head of the nursery unit, and asked her to look the other way, reminding her that she only had to put up with me for one term. I went outside and started chatting to this dad, while he held his daughter in his arms. We nattered about what they had been doing that morning, then I held my arms out and the little one and I hugged. As we continued to chat, I held her in my arms, then we started talking about the story we were going to read that afternoon, and what we were going to make or paint. We waved goodbye to her daddy and walked into the classroom. No tears, and she settled straight away. I did this every day.

Hugs are so important.

By the time you read this, the operation to sort my mouth out will have happened, and I know that Tim’s hugs and thoughtfulness will be making all the difference to my recovery. I am deeply grateful for my affectionate husband and the calm in our home bubble. His hugs are the best. 🩷