The Big Squeeze

My youngest son loves hugs and so do I. I mean, who doesn’t love a good hug. I’m not talking about those fake things that you give to people you haven’t seen in a long time, but the squeeze you so hard to me kind that says everything you never could. The kind of hug that bares your soul and is nothing but pure, unconditional love. The hug that says I love you, I need you; you are the most important thing in the world to me. Everybody needs and deserves a hug like that, even an old bastard like me. A big squeeze, as the little guy calls them, is one of the best things in life. I am a spontaneous hug monster, when it comes to my kids and you never know when I’m going to pounce. No matter how good, or bad I might feel, there’s nothing like a big squeeze, to make me feel a whole lot better.

My two youngest sons still love hugs, but at thirteen, my oldest is way too cool for that kind of stuff. He let me know. Apparently, he’s a man now. He actually said that with a straight face and to my credit, I didn’t laugh and piss him off. It’s kind of strange, but since the divorce the boys and I are closer than we have ever been and we communicate amazingly well. I am quite the keeper of secrets. Oh, my… the horrible and terrible secrets of nine year old boys… I think we communicate so well, because I treat them with respect, speak to them as the little adults that they are and actually listen to them, when they have something to say. I must confess, I didn’t always do all of that, but I’m learning. This fatherhood stuff is nothing more than some huge, bizarre and freakish experiment, except that you’re experimenting with lives, so don’t screw up too hard, or too often. To be honest I don’t know how or why it all works, but it works and that’s all that matters.

It was a Sunday and it was getting close to the time for us to leave Philly and head back to Baltimore. Son #1 and I had been talking earlier and he had opened up to me; I knew he was hurting. The divorce has hit him the hardest and I know that he really misses me. The shame is that the children are condemned to pay for the sins of the parents. Nobody wins in a divorce, not the children, anyway. My oldest and I have always had a very special and close relationship. I lost sight of it, for a time, but I’ve regained my vision. Now that special relationship is shared by all four of us and that’s just the way we like it.
I’m their father, not their friend, but there’s so much more to it than that.

While we were chatting, I asked him a few questions and explained to him that I asked the first set of questions, because I’m his father and I needed the information to help me do my job more effectively. I further explained that I asked the second set of questions, because I love him and needed that information, because I cared. He answered my questions and then he told me that he thought I was the best father ever.

“You’re far from perfect,” he told me, “But you do your best. I love you, Dad.”

Three simple sentences. Thirteen words. I could never have imagined that so little could mean so much. I could have died fat and happy, right then and there. I was beaming. Never had I received higher praise, not even when someone calls me an asshole.

As we were getting ready to leave, I ambushed all three boys, with spontaneous hugs. The little one squeezed me harder and harder, as if he never wanted to let go. The medium one was the same way and I squeezed him back, my heart dropping through my chest. When I pounced on the big one, however, he tried to push me away. Too cool for hugs, remember? No way. Never let the moment pass you by, never let it get away. I hugged him even harder and whispered in his ear, “Don’t fight it. I can see how much you need this. I love you, buddy; it’s okay. I love you and that’s all that matters.”

He fought against it a little more, quite half-heartedly and then his hands dropped to his sides. That was okay; I hugged him even harder.

Suddenly, it was as if a dam had broken and he threw his arms around me and hugged me back, as hard as he could.

“I love you, Dad,” he said and that was when the tears started. He was unleashing a flood of emotion that was of biblical proportion and I stood as solid as a mountain as I let it wash over me.

“I told you that you needed this, buddy. It’s okay, everything will be alright,” I told him. “I love you, too.”

We hugged each other a little bit longer and then he got his emotions under control. Shortly afterward, we finished loading the car and we began our journey. None of the boys wanted to leave. It’s not that they didn’t want to go home; they love their mother and their home, in West Virginia. They just wanted to be with their dad. I didn’t want them to leave, either, for when they leave, my heart goes with them and then it’s a long, cold and lonely drive home, to a place that isn’t really home; a place where the echoes of laughter and tiny footsteps have faded.

We made our way down to Baltimore, where we met up with my ex-wife, said our goodbyes and I began the long journey home, dreading the emptiness that would greet me.

There’s actually a point, to this story. No matter how hard someone tries to push you away, don’t let them. Don’t give up and don’t give in. Fight harder. Pour your heart and soul into it; those are your strengths, use them. Break through and be prepared to catch them, when they break. Lend them your strength, fill their heart with your love and NEVER, ever let go. We only get one chance at life; learn to live it well, never miss an opportunity to let someone know how much you love them, to find forgiveness, or help to bear a burden. It’s never too late, until it is.

I had thought this story was finished and except for some minor editing, was “in the bag”, but then something else happened that I thought should be included.

My children came to visit, over Spring Break. As soon as we got here, my oldest son asked if he could speak to me privately and we went back to my bedroom, for a few quick words. When we got there, he turned to face me and looked over my shoulders to see if anyone was looking and then he threw his arms around me and hugged me as hard as he could. I was pleasantly stunned.

“I love you, Dad,” he said, “and I’ve missed you. I’m not hugging you, because I just farted, or anything.”

Sigh… I’ll take what I can get…