We were introduced through common friends and got along well. He worked day and night but always made time for his near and dear ones. I wasn’t sure if I was one of them but whenever he was around, I was at ease. If something worried me, I could confide in him. I could share what was on my mind. I could be myself.

We got closer and I found myself wanting to invite him for all the events I planned to attend; be it a simple get-together at my home. I wanted him to join us, friends, on a holiday. I wanted him to join us on an international trip. I wanted him to take me to ballroom dance lessons. I wanted him to accompany us on the way back from an exhibition.

The most amazing quality he had was the way he handled children; with pure love and care as if they were his own. He could spend a day with a toddler and allow neither to be bored of the other. He played with them like he were their age despite being one of us. He had a magnet when it came to making friends. He had plenty. He had charm. He had charisma. He was an epitome of love.

And then he passed away.

I broke. I felt incomplete. I felt like something was missing in my life. I felt like I should have told him a lot more than I had. I felt anxious; wishing this was a joke. I felt I had to help him in some way. Suddenly, I felt connected to him. I realized how much I missed him. I was shattered. I wanted him back, but how?

I attended the services kept in his honour and met his friends and family, perhaps for the first time. No one seemed interested in life anymore. He was the life of his family. He was the ‘sound of music’ of his home. I didn’t know how to get rid of this pain I felt inside. I couldn’t imagine how his family felt.

A few days later, after several thoughts of him, I had a dream. It was a typical partying scene, with friends and family all over the place and balloons to satisfy the children. He approached me to engage in a conversation of some sort. It didn’t matter what we were discussing. I was happy he was there. Once we agreed on whatever it was that we were talking about, finally, he hugged me and I did too. It was a long overdue hug of gratitude and happiness.

Amazingly, after many sad mornings, I had woken up with a smile, I felt complete. I felt like a chapter of my life had closure and I was ready to move on. I felt fulfilled. And then I realized what was missing in our relationship; a hug. The hug that should have been given every time we met. The hug that should have been given every time we parted. The hug you give someone, just in case you never see him again. The hug that is almost always the answer to everything. The hug that took my pain away.