I have been quiet for these past few months – and it’s been for the worst reason imaginable.
In May my brother dropped to the floor from a cardiac arrest – in front of his two children who called the ambulance and performed CPR until help arrived.
But the paramedics couldn’t bring him back fast enough – and so my memories of the last week of my brother’s life are a nightmare blend of ICU machines, conversations with doctors, constant scrutiny of his children’s faces to see how were coping, and chats close to my brother’s ear that ranged from telling him how much he was loved, to gentle threats to jolt him into waking up.
Hell, I even held his hand, in the hope he’d be creeped out enough to open his eyes.
One nurse told us to believe he could hear what was going on – so anything was worth a shot.
What’s helped me get through this period is to see how much we’ve all been loved – and really big warm hugs.
Hugs from family.
Hugs from friends.
Hugs from nurses.
Spontaneous hugs from people down the beach who barely know me.
I don’t know what it is about hugs that’s been so helpful. But the rational part of my brain that needs an explanation says that words alone at this time tend to make everyone feel a little inadequate. We just don’t have enough of them to express the truth of our feelings.
A big hug can just say what needs to be said.
I know not everyone’s a hugger.
But for me getting hugs has helped me get a sense of my tribe – and in these days where it’s so easy to be disconnected and cynical of other people’s motives – I know now what I’m seeking.
I plan to spend more time hanging out with people whose first instinct is to give a big hug.
Thank you to everyone for the hugs and who’s been so caring and supportive in other ways – it really has made the biggest difference.
I’m now around for a hug if anyone needs one from me.
