His Hands and Hugs

Almost immediately following Tim's death I began panicking about what I would forget about him, I kept coming back to the feel of his hands. My brother was not afraid of touch, he was a sensitive guy, more sensitive than most, having grown up with two females. Our family are huggers, cuddlers, and hand-holders.

As Tim got older, bigger and stronger his hugs of hello and good-bye became more memorable- probably because I couldn't receive them as often as geographic distance kept us apart. But it was all the more reason to cherish his hugs. But what made Tim's hugs different were what followed and I'm not sure if this is something he just did to his sister or if others experienced it, too. His hug was never just done, Tim kept contact. For me, he would usually grab my hand in that sibling way, we would be palm to palm and then Tim would curl his longer fingers over mine as if to say, "I'm bigger, stronger than you." And usually he would interlock our fingers which would always follow with him twisting my hand and arm around, behind my back-not painfully- but enough to send the playful message of "ha ha, I got you!" I think it was Tim's humble way of showing off his finger, hand, and forearm strength that resulted from his rock climbing. He often made us all feel his forearm muscles but he wanted us to flex our forearm muscles,too. Almost as if to convince us that we were strong enough to climb right alongside him.  In thinking of all this after he's been gone, I keep conjuring up how his hands feel because I don't want to forget. Tim's hands were always warm and dry, strong yet soft. His hugs were the same and anyone who knew him knew he was never "too manly" to give you a hug just because.

Visit to Napa Valley and a "just because" hug at the vineyard, April 2007.

About 2 years ago I was going through a rough bout of depression and Tim knew about it. We were at my cousin's wedding and sometimes all the family, commotion and stimulation can bring that sadness to the surface. Tim saw it and without saying anything just walked to my side and put his arm around me- that was Tim.

Arm wrestling or hand-holding?

Of course it can't all be sunshine and rainbows- we are also a family of "noodgers"- oh, how I loved to startle Tim- creep up behind him and scream. He liked to fart in my face; my mom: a relentless tickler. But as an adult, his favorite was to pinch the back of my arm, it seemed to always happen in the kitchen and within minutes of our greeting hugs. We would have finished saying our hellos and as I would walk by..Bam! A quick pinch from Tim. Oh that would piss me off, "Ah! The fucking hurts, bro!" And then his laugh: that nasally maniacal one (yeah, you know the one, if you know Tim). What I would give for thousands of those pinches now...

So my mission is to evoke these memories over and over so that my neural pathways won't forget those physical feelings. I can't forget Tim's hugs. I can't forget the feel of his hands and I won't forget those damn annoying pinches. I'm actually still waiting for another hug, a chance to feel his "climbing muscles", and grab his hands because I still can't wrap my brain around the fact that I will never get a "Tim hug" because no one else in the world ever hugged like him.