So, I have been
nothing but honest on this blog since the beginning. There have been a few
times in my life where I have struggled with legitimate bouts of depression.
I’ve always worked through it but it has happened enough to where I can sense a
spell coming on. But I have been
thinking about Sweet Brown and her trademark line, “Ain’t nobody got time for
that.” So I have just been trying to power through.
Last night, I was up on
the roof to watch the sunset because I figure the fresh air and such would be
very tranquil and soothing. So I sitting on the west side of the store and
Hobbit Judy comes up to smoke. She knows I hate it. Very politely, she waited
to smoke. We just sat and looked out to the west as the sun dipped below the
treeline. She held my hand. Not in a creepy way, nothing sexual. Just the joy
of human contact. She put her head on my shoulder. And I couldn’t help but put
an arm around her. We just enjoyed the sunset.
This guy wrote this
book one time about the five love languages, the five different ways that
people show love. One of the five ways is physical contact. I realized that
after some pretty tough times in my life that contact was my primary love
language. A lot of people equate physical contact with sex. And while sex is an
important part of that, it is not the only part. Way back when I was married
(that seems like an eternity now), every night when it was time to go to bed, I
would roll over to my side and my wife would rub on my back until I fell asleep.
It would usually only take a few minutes and I would be out. I used to love to
sit on the couch and hold hands. I wanted her hand on my leg in the movie
theater. And I would return the favor too. There was nothing I liked more than
brushing her hair while we watched TV and I was always very physically
affectionate.
I guess it goes back
to my parents because I remember as a kid always telling my sister, “Ewwww, Mom
& Dad are kissing.” They were always giving each other hugs and kisses and
sat close to each other.
My wife is gone. My
dad is gone. My sister is gone. For all I know, at this point Alex is all I
have left. And right now, we live in a world where physical contact with
certain creatures is a death sentence. And you don’t just die… You die horribly.
So the concept of
physical touch seems to be a dying thing. When Judy took a seat beside me we
did the standard small talk but from the moment the bottom of the sun kissed
the horizon until it completely disappeared behind the tree line, neither one
of us said a word. We just sat in complete silence, her head on my shoulder, my
arm around her, each holding the other’s hand. Again, there was nothing sexual.
No creepiness. Just two human beings watching the world turn.
I have forgotten what
it is like to have that human contact. The world has changed so much, that
touchy-feely aspect has seemed to have been completely lost. Granted, it is for
good reason. Some people out there didn’t like to be touched before the world
became infested with ravenous meat bags. But this is one aspect that I would
like to try to hang on to.
To be honest, I don’t
how. I don’t even know where to begin. I hug my son often. Not so much that he
becomes uncomfortable but enough for him to know that I love him. It won’t be too
much longer and he will probably rival me in height and size, so I have to do
it now.
I guess the trick to
surviving this whole thing is to treat it like the alcoholics… One day at a
time.
