The Infinite Value of a Hug

 

Yesterday was spent at my grandnephew’s high school graduation and the partying that followed.  It was a grand hodgepodge of blended families, ex-spouses, new spouses and best friends.

The honoree has always been a study in contrasts.  His grandmother, my sister, raised him from the age of 18 months until he was around six or seven.  His mother, a young woman with many issues, and his father, my nephew with different many issues, were far from ready to raise a child anywhere near his Nana’s standards, so she took the child in.

Over the years it has become clear to me that the graduate’s social awkwardness, avoidance of eye contact and rather odd responses to things around him place him on the high-functioning end of the autism spectrum – probably Asperger's Syndrome.  His father, who has raised him and his two younger siblings alone since they left my sister’s home, has never been able to come to grips with the idea that there is an underlying reason for his son’s “differentness.” All one needed to do to experience his condition is attempt to hug him. 

His posture is rigid, even in repose.  It would not seem possible, but when I approached him for a hug, he would stiffen beneath my arms and mumble something unintelligible.  With age he learned to feign receptiveness to warm, friendly touches, but his hugger always got the message.

As I prepared to leave the festivities, the graduate reached his own arms out in my direction, encircled my shoulders and squeezed with deliberate gusto.  Tears of joy immediately sprang to my eyes, tears of surprise and unadulterated pride.  He had just told me he had been accepted to a Georgia college with a strong soccer program.  His prowess in the sport made him popular among teammates and fans, in spite of his affective differences.  Our family had succeeded in loving him into success.

Perhaps you are not a big hugger, but Americans in general tend to hug a lot.  We do it in greeting.  We do it in parting.  We do it to console each other and to convey our love.  I really never thought that much about the importance of the hug in my life until just now, when I read a post by Open Salon blogger femme forte aka Candace. 

I have known for years now that she is and exceptional writer. This one, though, is in a class by itself.  It allows the reader to crawl inside her head as she waits in line at the supermarket. It is really about how she is handling the impending death of her beloved brother.  She shares memories of their bond, triggered by two children in the line with her.

When it was over, I was crushed to see that Candace had understandably closed the comments.  That’s when I realized that here on Open Salon, our version of a hug is a loving comment, and I couldn’t give her one this time.  I felt a little like a puppy looking through the door’s window wanting to get inside. 

These seemingly mindless gestures we humans create for our non-verbal communication needs are really a lot more meaningful than I thought – as much to the giver as to the receiver.