Small Kindness

We went to a Compassionate Friends' meeting tonight. And it was there that I received the sincerest and most heartfelt hug I've ever gotten since Kai died.

This small, elderly woman from Newfoundland, whose adult son was murdered by his girlfriend, went up to me when we were about to leave and said, "I just want to give you a hug."

I readily accepted. She embraced me tightly and whispered to me, "I love babies. I'm so very sorry for your loss." I just cried right there and then. It wasn't something she said really. It was something she did. That motherly tight hug, which lasted for more than a minute, was what I needed, what I've longed for after Kai died.

It was a huge comfort to me, especially since I've been missing my mother a lot lately. She lives on the other side of the globe and can no longer travel abroad due to her poor health. So she didn't get a chance to see and hold her beautiful grandson. And it broke both our hearts that she was unable to say goodbye to him in person.

I remember during the days after Kai's death, I asked for my mother. In between bouts of crying and dreamless sleep, I asked for her as if I was a child again who just got her knees scraped from tripping over something. I needed her hugs and kisses so desperately. But she's not nearby and the few hours on the phone with her wasn't enough to console me. I felt so lost. I felt like I was nobody's child.

But that elderly woman who freely gave me a hug tonight has given me a precious gift. She offered me her open arms as if to say, "In lieu of your mother who can't be with you, here I am." So I let myself melt into her warm embrace and feel the loving support. It moved me to tears. It lightened my grief.

Before I let go, I whispered back to her: "This hug means so much to me. Thank you for giving it."