I love big. Those I love, I really love. I have great friends. But I’m not always a big hugger, sure I’ll easily go in for hugs if one is offered up, but I generally get that uneasy, awkward feeling initiating a hug, and I usually feel weird about those ambiguous approaches, you know, the ones where neither party is sure about weather it’s a handshake or a hug.
My Babby (said bobby) was never afraid to hug. She saw you, looked right in your eyes, held your hand in hers, one on the top and one on the bottom, and pulled you in for a super human hug. My Babby weighed 90lbs at her healthiest and generally sat around 70-80lbs and stood about 4’11” yet her hugs came from something much bigger, her heart.
At her funeral the theme was Free Hugs, my Babby hugged everyone, from the bank clerk, to the home care nurse, to her family and friends who were the the most often hugged. She hugged in the usual way, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you close, but she also slipped in hugs by squeezing your hand, patting your knee, leaning into to you so that you were pressed shoulder to shoulder, by sliding her arm around your waist and pulling you close, and she even hugged with her eyes. She smiled often, large lovely smiles.
By hugging often, risking that awkwardness and rejection, she gained a reputation as a hugger, as the best hugger. I will miss her hugs, more than I can say, but I will carry forth, by risking more, and hugging more, so get ready, I’ve got a hug for you. My Babby’s love can carry forward, and I can be the embodiment of her love.