Tag: hug

53. In that first embrace of hello there is an armful of feeling.

Well, there’s another first bitten the dust – if that’s the way to phrase it. Another thing that, should it happen again, won’t be so strange, so unknown. He had a party. A small flat warming do. Just a manageable gathering of people, and I know all of them.

So there was the challenge. And it has been rather a day of it. I had morning spent chatting to people I haven’t seen for months who go to his classes every week. I bumped into them going for a post yoga class brunch. At least I haven’t had to “do the ‘We’ve broken up’ talk, though I’ve no idea when he actually told them about us. But those first meetings with people who know us both, know the news, it feels strangely sad.

There’s nearly always a hug, and in that first embrace of hello there is an armful of feeling. The tentative and awkward but trying not to show discomfort hug, the ‘don’t really know how to handle this’ hug; The ‘it makes no difference’ hug; The ‘well, isn’t life a fucker’ hug. And throughout today I have received all of them.

It was a pleasant enough evening. On advice (much needed) I arrived at the later end of the ‘get here between 7 and 8’ request. (You’re a guest, I was reminded, and you can get there when you bloody well like.) It felt better to join the gathering, not help start it – my usual role at a party. But this wasn’t our doo, I wasn’t there to help or entertain. Just to chat, and have a drink and eat too much cheese.

At one point we sat together and talked. And it’s still strange. So familiar and comfortable, yet distant. Like a video call in a way. But there are phrases that still feel so loaded. “You’d really like her” he said, about his latest one-to-one yoga client.  And that felt odd. Does he still think about my likes and dislikes? Do I pop still into his head? Will there soon be a “her” that I may have to consider?

And then it was easier to just leave. Enough face shown, plenty of being sociable, but home in time for tea and toast. Because one first always reminds me that there are probably plenty of others yet to come.

43. But it gets a little easier each time.

Amid the ‘you can take this’ and ‘I’ll keep that’ element of parting I have ended up with the printer. Not that he was ever really sure how it worked and I don’t think he ever changed an ink cartridge on it. However, he needed a boarding pass printed and so I printed it. He came round to collect it, bringing the dog after a mid-week overnight stay. We talked, sat around my round table while not drinking tea.

But it gets a little easier each time.

We talked of the adventuring daughter, of the anxious dog, of work and decorating and how are things. The lightly brushing past subjects, not too deep but not avoiding altogether.

Then goodbye, and walking down the stairs together. It helps to have a dog (see Blog #10) who distracts us both with overexcited activity.

And a hug.

The first hug. The hug has been somewhere I hadn’t been able to go. I can be friendly, nice, helpful… even cheery. But I have not been able to touch him. So he hugged me. And when he had left I wept. It was another first and won’t be as hard again. It was as if all the not hugging occasions had been building up causing pressure, a blockage.

Still, it’s done now. And I find myself sitting in a strange but familiar place. I am now at ‘his’ place. “Would you mind checking on the flat while I’m away, if you have time?” So obviously I make time. Well, you would, wouldn’t you. And here alone I look around – remembering to water the plant because that’s obviously why I’ve popped in. It’s a strange feeling. It doesn’t hurt like the last time I was here. And I have to be cautious not to be overwhelmed by the desire to put a few things where they would look a little better. But he’s starting to make it look really nice. “Don’t judge me on my cutting in” (as if I would, but a damp cloth when you’re painting around the lights wouldn’t hurt) but I like what he’s done so far.

And did he ask me to check the flat because it needed checking up on? He took my advice on colours but it’s still his work, his decisions, it’s his home. And the kettle I bought him for Christmas sits, well used, on the hob. But did he hug me, ask me to his home to show me that he will be ok too? It feels possible, probable.

Although, he still can’t clean a bathroom properly so nothing’s so very different.