It's odd that some things which should be obvious remain obscure until you've experienced them for yourself.
When I was in my mid thirties, my wife, Jill, gave birth to our daughter, Alexa. I loved being a parent and discovering the simple but incomparable joy of holding my baby girl.
Four years later, we had our second child, Ben. As I held him for the first time and felt him snuggle into me, I remember thinking that I should enjoy this feeling while it lasts. Boys don't hug their dads once they hit their teens... at least that must be what I believed as I hadn't hugged my dad since I was twelve.
Sluggishly, the cerebral gears began to turn. Well, why didn't I hug my dad? Who stopped it? Me or him? Was there some unwritten rule about two men hugging? It was something I hadn't even thought about as the father of a girl. It was perfectly acceptable for a dad to hug his daughter no matter what age they were... but somehow I had been secretly harbouring the belief that sons and dads didn't hug.
However, after only knowing my son for a few minutes, I was certain beyond any doubt that I would want to hug him whenever I felt like it for the rest of my life.
That was when the epiphany happened. A creeping realization slowly dawned on me that I might not be the first dad in the world to feel this way.
In fact, it might even be possible that my dad felt the same way about me.
I was only months away from turning forty, which meant that I probably had gone more than twenty-five years without giving my old man a hug. It wasn't something that had happened intentionally, but it had happened none the less and I resolved to put my new theory to the test.
A few weeks later, we had a family event at my house. When it began to wind down and my father was about to leave, I followed him to the front door. After he put on his shoes and coat, I stepped forward and gave him a hug. A simple hug.
For one brief moment, he reacted as if I'd jumped out from around a corner and startled him. His body flinched, then he hugged me back. Fiercely. I thought he was going to crack one of my ribs and I couldn't help but wonder if he had been waiting all those years for my permission to hug again.
Today, my son is closing in on eighteen. He's a man in his own right, and he good-naturedly endures my random hug ambushes. Cherished friends and co-workers are also included in my spontaneous displays of affection.
And naturally... whenever I see my dad, I give him a hug goodbye.
It seems like a small thing, and I'm sure most people take it for granted but if I hadn't had a son of my own, I wonder how long it would have taken me to realize that my dad was patiently waiting for a hug from his son.
Happy Birthday, Dad.
