A Hug From Dad

As I’ve gotten older I have begun to see the value of things differently. I used to turn to physical items to remind me of the closeness that I shared with a loved one. As an example, I have an old flannel shirt of my fathers. Each time I slid it on I would close my eyes and imagine the feeling of a hug from Dad. The buttons are coming loose as the thirty some year old thread softens and the cuffs are a bit tattered, but the hug still feels as full of love as ever.

I was recently told a story by a friend who wore a pair of her mother’s gloves for much the same reason. It was a chance to hold her mother’s hand once again. And it occurred to me that we all struggle in our own way to maintain some type of earthly or physical connection to those we love. I thought about Dad’s flannel shirt, and I felt a pang of guilt as I hadn’t wrapped up in that flannel security blanket of sorts in quite a while. I wondered if I had finally outgrown the need and desire to get a hug from Dad. I also worried that I had allowed myself to become too busy and distracted to remember the importance of those hugs. He was my great protector as a child, and in his arms, I felt as if I wore a suit of armor that protected me from all the pain and danger in the world. How could that no longer hold meaning for me?

But the more I thought about Dad and that old shirt, the more I smiled and the more I felt his love. My Dad was a simple man with simple pleasures. He didn’t have a need for a lot of fancy or expensive things. He valued honesty, integrity, and love far above any tangible items. I also thought more about what Dad and I accomplished together in 2018…

He was a driving force in my life, but often a silent one. His lessons were not told, they were demonstrated. He was like the wind, an invisible force blowing me in the right direction. And when he was proud of me I felt that warmth clear to my soul like a ray of sunlight shining from his bright blue eyes. And throughout 2018 I am certain he would have been beaming as he saw his stories being passed along to so many readers. He has been gone close to two decades now, but we shared so many hours together this past year as I thought of his stories and lessons. He was so close to me. He is close to me, not only when I don his shirt but always. He is in my heart and I simply need to allow his voice to be heard in my head in those peaceful quiet moments like the ones we used to share in person.

This reminder serves so many purposes for me at this moment. It’s a reminder that I’m never alone and that I can often look inside my heart for the guidance and answers that appear to be eluding me. It also serves to remind me that though it is comforting at times to hold an item that was held by a loved one, I needn’t focus on that physical thing. With every beat of my heart, I know that I have the one thing that all of those loved ones touched oh so gently but so profoundly. They reside now in my heart and in my memories.

Things need care like that old shirt needs some time and attention from a needle and thread. They consume time and space that is finite, but my memories and the love we share in my heart is always perfect and needs no mending folding or space on a shelf. Downsizing things affords us the freedom that we all need from time to time to simplify our lives and resort harmony. But the connections that really matter, the love and the memories, those will always be with me and will never weigh me down as I move forward on my journey.