When I arrived at the hospital at 1am Friday night, the woman lying there fighting to breathe, so weak, so pale, so aged, so fragile and small, could not be my mom. This was not how she would be remembered.

My mom, Jeanne, was always strong enough to give everyone a hug. When she hugged you, she gave you a little bit of her love; a little bit of her joy; she made you feel weclome; she made you feel special. She gave you a little bit of herself for that small moment. And she had a lot to give.

My Mom hugged everyone - family, friends, new acquaintances - whether that person wanted a hug or not. Sometimes she hung on a bit harder and for a bit longer than the recipient was comfortable with, but this didn’t stop her.

In my younger years, this habit of hers mortified me. Like any good teenager, I cringed or rolled my eyes as she hugged all of my friends. Then, somewhere along the way and unknowingly, I began to emulate her. Among my friends, I became known as a “hugger” as well. More recently, I strayed from the hugging habit, I had effectively gone on a “hugging hiatus.”

Upon realizing this, I thought about my Mom and her hugs. I thought about the power of human touch; how important it is to tell or show people you care; how sometimes it is imperative that you reach out to others – for your own sake, as well as theirs. Essentially, A hug can convey all of this and more in one simple gesture.

We lead busy lives. We are inundated with a plethora of impersonal modes of communication. We appreciate the many special people in our lives, but often forget to tell them. We are in a hurry much of the time. But nothing replaces the moment taken to give or receive a hug – as a greeting, a good-bye, for no apparent reason, sometimes without words - a simple gesture that can mean so much.

With my Mom’s death, there are now fewer hugs to go around. My hope is that we can all fill that huge void by continuing my Mom’s “hugging habit.”