Missing the human touch
Iposed a question on social media. “What do you miss most about your life BC (Before COVID)?” I have read about a thousand replies, and I have learned so much. Your answers made me laugh, and they made me cry.
The No. 1 answer was no surprise. Hugs. We love our hugs, and rightfully so. When this pandemic slinks away, its head held in shame, I will be hugging relatives, friends, strangers, parking meters, and telephone poles. I have a lot of making up to do.
Those who have been widowed, and who now live alone, miss our hugs more than anyone. “Since my husband died, it’s rare that anyone touches me or hugs me,” one woman wrote. “The loneliness is really taking a toll.”
Church services are near the top of the list, and that’s where many of us get our hugs. We miss the choirs, the in-person sermons, and the Sunday lunches.
You also told me life isn’t the same without concerts, ball games, and movies, even with sticky floors and overpriced popcorn. We miss the confidence and joy of virus-free airplanes, carefree car trips with hotels and roadside stops, and wide-open beach vacations.
I was touched by so many stories of folks being separated from their loved ones, often under tragic circumstances. My parents and my wife’s parents all died between 2005 and 2018, and our families visited them during their illnesses, and were near them when they passed. This year, that is not possible, and it is heartbreaking.
Funerals, once a great source of comfort, are now socially distanced. No contact, no handshakes, no arm to hold on to. As one funeral director told me, “We stand by helplessly, seeing the heart-wrenching pain in their eyes.”
We are unable to console our friends, and that hurts us as much as it does them. One woman wrote, “My friend just lost his daughter. I would love to put my arms around him, and let him know how much I care.”
My wife and I are not yet grandparents, and we have enjoyed occasional visits with our adult children. Sadly, many of you cannot do that. You are missing out on the joy of hugging and holding your grandchild. Of course, it works both ways. The children miss your touch too.
Many of you are concerned about our freedom, our nation, and our lack of unity during a crisis. You miss “The way it used to be.” “Not being afraid.” “Normalcy.” “Life.” So do I. There is so much fear and hate in the world. One woman wrote, “This has brought out both the best and the worst in people.”
We are missing life’s random moments. Like chatting at the mall with a total stranger, finding out you have a common friend. You can’t just “bump into” someone in 2020. As one man wrote, “All interactions must now be planned, isolated and regulated.”
Teachers are on the job, but struggling. Many have become sanitation specialists, out of necessity.
While some of us are worried about ourselves, others worry about the children. Melissa Porterfield wrote, “This isn’t how I wanted them to grow up. They’re missing out on so much. I wouldn’t change my kids for the world, but I sure wish I could change the world for my kids.”
As you might expect, masks are a hot topic. They hide our lips when we’re talking. Many deaf people say this has taken a huge chunk out of their world.
We cannot see the friendly smiles that accompany the kind eyes. In fact, we make little or no eye contact at all. As one man wrote, “We can no longer see the whole person behind the mask.”
Thankfully, some people still have their sense of humor. Here are some examples.
“I miss when my home smelled like Febreze instead of Lysol.”
“I miss breathing without lint in my nose.”
“I miss my ridiculous, but comforting sense of immortality.”
“I miss being able to just sneeze, without getting a dirty look from someone.”
“I miss my Tuesday night Taco Group. We used to meet every week, for eight years. To be honest, I miss the chili almost as much as my friends.”
“I miss my lipstick. Those masks just ruin it!”
There’s no doubt about it. Life’s parade has hit a huge pothole, and we have to find a way out of it. Diana Brown summed it up beautifully. “We took so much for granted,” she wrote. “I miss it. I miss it all.”
David Carroll, a Chattanooga news anchor, is the author of “Volunteer Bama Dawg,” available on his website, ChattanoogaRadioTV. com. You may contact him at radiotv2020@yahoo. com, or 900 Whitehall Road, Chattanooga, TN 37405.