Faith

Hugs and Kisses

On June 27, 2025 by Elle R.

Real estate is all about location, location, location. I wouldn’t choose any other place to live because I really like living next to my granddaughter, Lyra. When my husband was alive, he relished his role as her Grandpa and would often take her with him when he needed to run errands. Sometimes he would create errands he didn’t need to do, just to have sweet moments with her. She would gladly be his passenger princess.

Barry took Lyra to the shoe store to buy her new sneakers, making sure to adhere to Lyra’s request for ‘light up shoes,’ which she promptly modeled to everyone. Eat your heart out, Dorothy Gale, your ruby slippers are no match for light up shoes from Grandpa.

Barry took Lyra to a fast food restaurant to get her favorite Michelin star meal, macaroni and cheese, which she gobbled up with gusto. He would complain about the price compared to the portion size, but it never stopped him from taking her there again.

Whenever Lyra asked Barry to make her a paper airplane, he’d deftly turn a piece of paper into a Dart style airplane that rivaled the FB-111’s he worked on in the Air Force as an avionics technician. While methodically folding the paper, Barry would tell Lyra how his own grandfather had taught him how to make paper airplanes. He would explain to her a little about thrust and lift as he threw the airplane across our house, while she giggled at how far his precision could make the plane fly.

A week before Barry entered heaven, he bought Lyra an antique embroidered child sized rocking chair at a thrift shop. He knew she wanted it and the chair was a sweet surprise for her when she arrived home that day. Lyra sat upon her tiny throne, happily waving the tv remote control scepter.

Barry was also very content to just sit still and enjoy letting Lyra unwind in his lap after her day at daycare. He’d listen to her as she chattered like a magpie and he’d gently kiss the top of her head, telling her how much he loved her. She’d reply with a tight squeeze, and he would tell her what a fantastic hugger she was.

Yesterday, I learned something about Lyra’s grief that profoundly moved me. For context, Lyra started off life as more of an observer – the world was too big and loud for her, and often still is. Her sensory issues made it so she was only able to offer what affection she felt comfortable with, and kisses were not on her roster. Barry had asked her for kisses on occasion, and Lyra would offer the top of her head with a little tilt, but had yet to reciprocate. Barry understood and just reminded Lyra what a great hugger she was.

Lyra and I were watching a movie yesterday and as I had her curled in my lap I reminded her, “I love you, and Grandpa still loves you. Someday we will get to go to heaven and give Grandpa hugs and kisses.”

Lyra quietly replied with a self awareness that I was stunned to hear from a child just cresting her 5th birthday. She leaned into my side, sorrow etched into her body language.

Lyra spoke in soft words.

“I never kissed Grandpa.”

Regret. This precious child had a huge regret lurking inside of her. In that pivotal moment, I was reminded of the classic two word strategy of false guilt the enemy keeps stockpiled as ammunition towards grievers, big and small.

“If only.”

Thankfully, Barry had given me a huge gift before he died so suddenly. One day, we had been taking a walk and I asked him, “When you die, will you have regrets?”

His confident answer is my perpetual gift. “NO.”

I replied, “Really? Nothing? Why not?”

His answer was firmly rooted in scripture.

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” Phillipians 4:8

Instead of focusing on negative regrets which lead to false guilt, Barry’s simple answer focused on God’s great gift to him, something Barry found profoundly excellent and praiseworthy to remain fixated on.

“I have everything I have ever wanted,” he said.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“A family.”

A former foster child who had been bounced from home to home, Barry concentrated on the loveliness of being a patriarch to a chaotic clan. Laser focused on appreciating what mattered. The memory of that lesson always steers me away from false guilt when the enemy would have me living in a valley of shame.

I held Lyra in my arms and refocused her away from false guilt, by reassuring her of the truth.

“Grandpa knew that you loved him and still do. He always said you were the best hugger! When we get to heaven, we can give him kisses and hugs.”

A weight seemed to lift from her. Lyra proceeded to give me a rib squishing bear hug, and I kissed the top of her head – like Barry would do.

10 comments