Mike
Shoreham-by-Sea

Touch on 6 May 2020

Today would have been my wife’s birthday – she would have been gathering our grown up children to her, reaching up to kiss our son on his hen pecked stubbly cheek and throwing her arms around our shy daughter, full of infectious energy and brimming over with love for them both.

And what adoring cuddles and tickles she would be showering on the granddaughter she never got to see and hold!

Later today I’ll FaceTime my daughter, as we get ready for lunch and she prepares for bed in distant Thailand. I’ll reach forward to tap the small screen button and hope that, for a time, we can bring ourselves together, staccatoed by poor Wi-Fi connections. Touch in disjointed time and place.

When we finally meet, my son will reach out to me for the missing hugs and a peck on the bristly cheek, but for now, with COVID-19 restrictions, we’re on hold – a 360 mile round trip for a manly hug, time with his wife and peek-a-boo with little Chloe, strolls to the park and hanging out together not yet classed as essential travel, though his mum would have vehemently disagreed and have us on the road every week.

And to hold our granddaughter! From the first time over a year ago and just one week out of hospital, nestled in my arms, I felt a light, airy room of love open up in me, full of wonder and awe – so privileged to hold this new life, with meaning-filled moments and memories to be created ahead. At the same time a sense of guilt and not being worthy uncomfortably sat there with me too – I’m such a poor substitute for the Grandmother’s adoring caresses and affection that she’ll never know. My touch is sometimes tentative, aware that I can’t fill her Grandmother’s place. Can someone please sign a consent form for me?

As for my body, today like every other day I keep it going through the restrictions and social distancing rules, as the only life I know: perhaps a slow, ponderous, shuffling run, trying to hang on to a memory of the fluent, super quick striding out I once relished; an invigorating swim in the startlingly cold sea, getting into a rhythm and strong, flowing movement as the cold assaults every part of me; maybe later a stroll with Anne along the beach, swapping stories, taking in the calming sights, sounds and serene movements of the sea and finding a relaxing closeness in each other.

Keep it all going, ready for the next day’s meaning-filled moments of touch. Mike