Leslie Cohn: I was recently involved in a drive-by hug.
It is really the only kind of drive-by anyone should ever have to be involved in, apart from a drive-by barking which is also surprising (yet hilarious) in my opinion.
I have a longtime friend who has amazing timing. We can go for weeks, months, and sometimes years without connecting. However when we do, something unspoken and magical occurs. Time has and hasn’t passed at the same time.
He is one of those friends.
We don’t live far from each other, yet life can be a busy thing.
We originally met on a commercial production shoot, which is the filming of tv commercials – an industry in which we freelanced. I remember the job somewhat clearly. It was a Super Bowl ad for Tommy Hilfiger starring Michael Richards of Seinfeld. And it shot in January about a week after my Dad had died.
I had recently jumped from a staff position into the freelance world as a production assistant. During this time as a PA, it is crucial to prove yourself and it is necessary to take every job that comes your way – so you can eventually “move up”.
The hours are long and brutal. If you are in this industry, I don’t have to tell you one is fortunate if a workday is only 12 hours long (not including prep and drive time).
This beautiful, beautiful 6’4” brown-eyed handsome man was also a truck/set PA on our crew, and as I was having a moment in the motorhome, he had appeared. In my fog, I don’t remember any other crew being there, perhaps they were at lunch and I was alone. Which would seem an appropriate moment for reality to creep in and give your eyes the opportunity to leak due to what is building inside your heart.
I remember this man’s soulful and inquisitive eyes, and telling him briefly about my Dad. My brow was furrowed and he put his thumb on my third eye with the perfect amount of pressure and care.
He made me laugh when he told me I reminded him of a gelfling in the Dark Crystal because my ears stuck out from my hair, and he finds that physical trait endearing. I listened while he shared some truths of his life. It was as if we were long lost cousins reunited. We had nicknames (titles really) by the end of the conversation, which remainin place to this day.
We did numerous other nutty gigs together. Commercials and music videos. Within the madness we had each other to kibbitz.
Lives and work departments and circles change, time moves forward.
A handful of years passed and we hadn’t seen each other, I was outside as he drove by and introduced me to his lady love who was full with baby.
Serendipitously they drove past another time when there was one loose (yet secured tiny) and another in her belly. More years pass, because their family included three tinies and we say at some point we will all get together.
And the time just goes, doesn’t it? It goes.
Years later, on a day during my husband’s hospice inside, I was outside our building taking the Little Dog to her “powder room”.
I was completely consumed and looking at the ground watching for her to finish, when I heard, “I love you.” and then again, “I love you. I love you.”
Wading through the confusion and tears in my eyes until it registered that what I was hearing was for me and what I was seeing was a familiar Volvo wagon with the windows rolled down and that beautiful face, “ I love you. I love you.”
I met his eyes and in a whisper I repeated back what I was hearing , “I love you. I love You.”
He gave one final wave and “I love you” as he drove away.
Since the time my husband vacated his earth suit, and transitioned into divine energy, I have been rashly judged and timeshamed over the length of my grief. I have endured ignorant yet scathing remarks from unknowing and unenlightened civilians regarding my feelings about the loss of my truest deepest love after the 1st, 2nd and 3rd year Marks.
“Oh, that’s a long time!” I hear.
The statement and tone and squished judgmental facial expression implies I am way behind the imaginary estimated curve of society and media.
However, when catching up on life and talking about the upcoming *Yahrzeit (*Yiddish for an anniversary of a death), of course this beautiful man gently says, “That’s a long time to be (physically) away from the one you love the most.”
It was as if his thumb was once again upon my third eye with the rest of his fingers easily spread out over my cranium, respectfully holding in the loving memories and reassuring my heart at the same time.
You’re ok. You are always allowed to feel the depth and magnitude of this. Recently, my telephone rang and when I saw the name and title, I had to answer.
His heavenly voice says, “Drive-by hug!” Drive-by hug!”
“Yes! Yes!”, I say emphatically.
Although they are friends, I leave the Little Dog inside so I can greedily receive what is coming to me when the car pulls into the driveway. Full wingspan envelopment.
I even get to see a once tiny who is presently my height and receive an adjunct hug.
As they get back into their vehicle to continue on, I run to retrieve the Little Dog so she can participate. I place her onto the not so tiny anymore’s lap through the rear window and she wiggles with excitement while asking a handful of questions before their departure.
She returns to my arms and the incident ends.
“I love you. Thank you. I love you.”
Genius. Indelible, Brilliant.
Drive-by hug.
