The Power of Holding On

I believe in the power of holding on. What do I mean by holding on? It’s the quiet but powerful moment we share when we hug. It’s the current that runs from my heart to yours when I want to say something and words just won’t do. Hugging, or holding on, is the power we possess when we put our arms around someone. It can change relationships, makes a patient a person, an acquaintance a friend, bond a child to a parent, say goodbye and I’ll do my best to live without you.

My grandmother taught me about holding on, whenever she gathered me in her strong, loving Irish arms. She always hugged liked she meant it even when her back became curved and her strength had waned. My mother hugs my children the same way—heart open and arms wide, breathing them into her soul.

Once I became aware of its power, I started experimenting: I held my mother-in-law a moment too long then moved onto my sisters-in-law, aunts, nieces, nephews, and cousins. I tried it with a friend who had made my life rich with texture and laughter, but I was too embarrassed to tell her, and acquaintances that I wanted to be friends with. Some were bothered, others accepting, but all had one thing in common—the next time I hugged them, they hugged me back.

For me, holding on has become more than a physical interaction; it has become a way of thinking. My fallback answer to life’s dilemmas and tough choices, it’s an amalgam of acceptance, forgiveness, and patience—not always easy or understood but it guides me to be quiet and listen, look for the good, have a sense of humor and laugh, stop worrying and be patient because if I let it, something will change.

I’ve often wondered how different my life would have been if I hadn’t learned the power of holding on. If during that time in my life, when I was crumbling into myself, my mother had stopped holding on to me, I might have missed something so vital to my existence.

I believe that a hug is like a battery charger—a good one can keep me going for a long time. Next time you’re at your wit’s end, start a trend, ask for a hug, and see if you can feel the difference. It’s beautiful.
 

Cameron Bove is a full time organic farmer and part time librarian in Litchfield, Connecticut. She wrote this essay in 2006 after being asked, by her then four-year-old son, “Besides me, what will you miss when you’re in heaven?” Her answer was simple—hugging her children. Now that her son is thirteen, hugs from him are a little harder to come by, but she grabs them when she can.