Holding Hands With Number One

One of the things I miss most is having no one to hold hands with.

When I first met my (second, now late) husband John I remember being surprised and a little upset when he said; ‘You’re very touchy aren’t you? I like to walk independently’. It seems I won him round though for without it being discussed much he soon became as keen as I to walk along hand-in-hand.  Up until her death four years ago my mum and I often held hands or walked with arms linked when out together. My parents were physically affectionate with me and with each other on a daily basis and consequently a touch, kiss, embrace or a snuggle-up on the sofa with partner, parent or close friend feels natural to me. I have many memories (and the photographs to prove it) of physical contact with my dad. When I was very young he would waltz around our small living room with my feet on top of his and after a memorable trip to the cinema to see Scrooge the Musical he grabbed by hand insisting that we dance home down the middle of the street just as Albert Finney and the cast had done in the film. Given his far-too-early death I’m grateful that during my teenage years I didn’t shun the company of my parents as adolescents sometimes do. Fast forward a few years and I’m sitting on a train with my mum after a hard day’s shopping. She’s leaning against me with her head on my shoulder and dozing a little. ‘What a sweet couple,’ I hear a woman a few seats behind say. ‘It’s two women I think,’ replies her friend. I’m reminded of this when a long (but not long enough) time later the palliative care team come to my flat to discuss how they can support us, in this, my mum’s last illness. We are sitting on the sofa together and she has her legs up with her feet in my lap and I’m rubbing her legs absentmindedly whilst we talk to our visitors. ‘You seemed so comfortable together, so physically at ease,’ the social worker said to me following mum’s death. Her obvious surprise was surprising to me.

Recently a close friend said that the saddest part for her of being a widow was no longer feeling that she was anyone’s ‘number one’. Although prior to our chat I had not articulated my own loss in quite this way this speaks to my experience too. Don’t misunderstand me my life is full of significant others and I spent much of my time happily with loving friends with whom I share physical, as well as emotional, affection. I enjoy my own company too and although I miss the loved ones I have ‘lost’ I do not, or at least not very often, feel lonely when alone. That said I’ll end where I began. . . One of the things I miss most is having no one to hold hands with.

Gayle Letherby (nee Thornton)