Grieving is tricky

Losing a father whom you have no recollection of ever living with is difficult. Grieving is tricky; I didn't have any obvious close father-daughter memories to cling to and mull and cry over. Most of my memories were of stilted meetings and uncomfortable times together. But I desperately missed him being alive.
As time moved on my grief and anger at his untimely death began to recede. I realised that his affirmation of me from his deathbed had filled a gaping hole of insecurity I had constantly carried around.
To a child a hug says so many things. It tells you that the person hugging you loves you, cares for you. A hug also confirms that you are a lovable being. Months after Dad's death I realised with a jolt that his lack of hugs said more about him than me. My father was not a demonstrative man and I was, therefore, perhaps, a lovable being.
Once I digested this insight my feelings changed from those of a needy child to ones of a very proud daughter. Looking at my father more objectively allowed me to view him clearly: he was a man of few words; he was intelligent, kind and extremely modest. Ironically I began to feel closer to him in death than I had while he was alive.
With this new-found wisdom came the freedom to give up trying so very hard to gain the affections of others and to concentrate on finding me. I shattered the family taboo of silence about the break-up of my parents' marriage. I also felt the need to speak out about the detrimental effect I felt my step-parents had had on my life.
In some ways the consequences have been quite dire and I no longer have contact with my mother. However, Dad's hug had a profound effect on me. It carried me along a path from childhood to adulthood. At last I am my own woman and one who loves nothing better than a good old-fashioned hug.