I realized last week that I am the father in a not so affectionate family. In a way, that surprised me. I don’t know what triggered this realization. It could have been pictures I saw on Facebook or a family walking down the street.
I’m not unhappy about this. Well, maybe a little. I just find it unexpected. Certainly, I am not exceptionally affectionate person but I come from a family with a healthy amount of affection, with essentially no inhibitions about it. Amy’s family is more reserved in this area in a fairly stereotypically WASP way. Amy, herself, is affectionate – at least enough for me.
And, I think we were affectionate with our kids when they were little. Now that time has gone. They are both teenagers and that brings with it a kind of distance. I personally remember saying to myself “no more kissing Dad goodnight. He really doesn’t care if I do it or not.” I don’t know how he felt about it or whether he even noticed. With other younger siblings around it might have been even hard to notice. But I found the whole thing awkward. Maybe it’s a kind of normal individuation but I don’t remember it feeling normal.
On the other hand, my mother was overtly affectionate. She was, for me, embarrassingly demanding about that. She was explicit, saying you should never be embarrassed to be kissed or kiss your mom. While this might be a good message to send, it not the easy message to receive as a teenager. Kissing Mom goodnight was another perilous activity. My mom, perhaps because I am the eldest, wanted to know when I had made it home safely. But there were times, plenty of times, when I didn’t want her to know that I made it home at all. I certainly didn’t want to bring any attention to myself.
I don’t know if I got into more trouble than other brothers and sisters or less. For my mom, in my late teens, I was a handful. The complication of my parents eroding marriage did not help matters. I look back and see that my mother was reaching out for contact. I can’t be sure of course but this was missing from her marriage. My recollection of my parents affection for each other was always complicated. I don’t remember their being at ease with each other. And certainly in my adulthood, there was open antipathy toward each other. Maybe that was what I was sensing. My mother was looking for her needs to be met and I was an adult male. She did not have this in balance. And when someone needs affection, affection gets layered with complexity–even simple, innocent affection.
Cancer brought a change to my parents. The simplicity of touch was once again discovered. Chemotherapy makes holding hands more meaningful than you might ever imagine. I wasn’t in town much during my mom’s treatments, living 3,000 miles away. But when I was there, all she wanted was someone to sit with her, make conversation, deep or not, hold hands. When I saw my parents together during that time, there was peace, acceptance and blitheness.
Since my mom died, in 1999, Dad has been different. And it’s been a welcome change.
I find myself having fairly casual expectation of affection now. With my French friend, I kiss him on the cheeks. I find it normal now. Though, at the golf course, I got a little bit self-conscious about it. I know that it is everyone else’s problem, not mine, what they think about. That part, my mother was right about. With women I know, I like to kiss them. I normally kiss my sisters too. That all seems rather mundane and requires little thought. I hug my dad and kiss him now if I’m in the mood or feeling it, like when I leave home again after a visit. With men, I’m a hand-shaker or bro hug guy. I have no problem with all of it but I like making the connection.
The hug is my bugaboo. Those generally seem awkward. Seriously, two kisses on the check are less awkward than full body contact or these weird light pats on the back. I’m from a big family. You hug someone, you mean it or don’t bother. When you mean it, like when you console somebody, you want to envelope them or be enveloped. Don’t you? Or, in a bona fide, full expression of happiness, the same thing. You ever see hockey players hug each other after a goal? They mean that shit.
I vowed that I would not make my kids feel awkward about affection. Right now, I have no idea what they feel about it. I notice its absence. I am not overreacting to that but I guess I am reacting to it. I think that I would love some of the lightness that was there to return again. Maybe I just have to wait a bit.