A Hug in Four Parts

Posted on by Victoria

Holiday time brings a few friendly ghosts forward.  I welcome them.  No…not like the story of the “Disappearing Girl” that I shared recently.  The rush of November and December will invariably stir up melancholy moments where I receive – gladly – glimpses of my dad.  Tiny whispers as I hear myself think in ways he did.  Remembrances of what sparked joy for him about home, hearth and family and of course his wicked sense of humor.  Of all the lessons my dad bestowed upon me, the one that sticks the most this time of year is the pervasive echo of his restraint and respect.  His finesse and subtle redirects in the face of stupidity or ignorance…. all without breaking a sweat? Lessons in calm.  Compared to my mom, Sue, whose mouth was like a flamethrower – quick to ignite with blistering heat – my dad, Sonny, was a diplomat. 

When I wrote “Mismatch: Words and Deeds” recently, he was by my side.  He was near when poetry flowed from my fingertips, helping me resolve some anger and he was near when I wrote about the power of prose to offer release and renewal.  I felt all of that when I penned that post, but it felt like too much of a detour to bring my dad into the picture as my muse.  But I can tell you about it now; I think I’m ready.

The night before I wrote “Mismatch”, I went to bed with a heavy heart.  I missed my dad’s capacity for listening without plopping into problem-solving mode.  I’ve said this before…I’m a failure at avoiding the lowlight reels at night when I should be slumbering. I invariably click through unresolved issues as if I had an old-school View-Master in my hands.  Remember those? I’m talking about the old, old-school version, not the new-fangled virtual reality models.   

Frustrated with myself and needing sleep, I tried a tactic I love but left by the wayside over the past year or so.  I tend to think of my loving kindness meditation as a morning ritual but it’s equally calming when I turn the tables and invoke goodness toward myself as a bedtime prayer.

As I switched from my stress-inducing View-Master brain toward love, my dad arrived. A powerful, tactile, full body memory of our last embrace at an airport many years ago. And it all started with my impromptu entreaty to myself, “Know you are loved.” I fell asleep, enveloped by him and when I woke, several hours later, these were the comforting echoes that remained, sweet memories about my dad:

  • I opened my heart to let you in, longing for one more embrace…the way I could get lost as you wrapped your massive arms around me and when the hug was over, I remembered how you’d grasp my hands in your big mitts and squeeze a little more and say:  “You are my baby girl” as your palms moved to cradle my face as you planted a gentle kiss on my head.
  • It was the ritual we never spoke about…the hug in four parts — bear hug, hand holding, “baby girl” and the smooch to send me into the world…every departure…including the last one on June 3, 1997.
  • One week later you were gone but that memory of the drop off at the airport, not giving a damn about honking horns and traffic cops’ whistles urging us to move along remains. You held your right hand up to signal you were aware…but you had other business on your mind.  Our 4-step goodbye.
  • I turned to wave as you drove off and saw your grin. As if you were satisfied and could release me for a time…not knowing it would be for all time.

So much comfort in those snapshot memories from an airport.  Hugs and honking…satisfied smiles. I wonder – do dreams enchant you? They do me. So much so that I have one more to share with you, my Dream Weaver friends.  For very different reasons. I have a dream that’s part nightmare, part victory and it’s still making me go, ‘huh’ with wonder.  I’ve never experienced a lucid dream before – one where I was both player and spectator – but I do believe I can now check that box after a recent restless night.  Take a look on Victoria Ponders.  I’m still pondering…just like a good Victoria should and the Gary Wright Dream Weaver song is my soundtrack.  Don’t know it?  Shame, shame.  Listen!

Vicki ❤

51 thoughts on “A Hug in Four Parts”

  1. Pingback: Lucid Dream: Vicki Style – Victoria Ponders

  3. The hug ritual is so sweet, and I love that it continued even into adulthood. 🥰 My grandma used to give me bunny kisses, where we would nuzzle our noses together and it’s such a special memory for me.

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  7. Love this sooo much, Vicki!!! Tears at “enveloped by him” and your 4-part goodbyes. So much love between you and your dad!! And yes, I always loved that Dreamweaver song too. I never knew why though, until recent years.

    My dad used to hold my hand and too, but not everytime. And untilthe last few visits he would give me a kiss—he had thought he was sick and didn’t want to give me anything. But each time on the phone he would say, “love you, love you, love you.” Three times. Which no one else ever has. Tears just thinking/writing that now. He passed in 2019.

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    1. Oh, dear one…the “love you” three times is so very endearing…I can see why the four-part hug spoke to you. We’ve been lucky, haven’t we, to have such wonderful fathers. Sending big hugs your way…here they come! 🥰

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  9. Oh, this is so incredibly touching, Vicki! The four part hug – the tactile remembrance of such big love. Wow, I’m feeling it even as I sit on my couch removed in distance and time. Beautiful! ❤ ❤ ❤

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  12. These are such loving and lovely memories, Vicki. Your hug ritual is wonderful and it’s not surprising that these glimpses, both seen lucidly and felt within, of your hand resonate with aliveness all these years later.

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  17. Awww, what a great post. You asked about enchanted dreams. Love your post and I can so relate. I wrote a few years ago about a dream I have about my father, walking with him through the woods. I haven’t had it in a while, but when I have, I spend the rest of the day with a smile on my face. It’s lovely to think about and revel. http://writingfromtheheartwithbrian.com/2017/11/13/pleasant-dreams-with-dad/

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