I lost my rock, my confidant. A brilliant man full of brilliant wisdom. A strong man who held me up through thick and thin. Who held me close, loved me dearly, and dried every tear.
A stunning man, with a crooked smile. Strong hands, they were the strongest hands I have ever touched. But they felt so good, so reassuring. Hands that could knit, crochet and stitch. Hands that could build, fix, and design. Hands that developed beautiful pictures, created breath taking jewelry, and labored in God's love daily.
Hands that were held in marriage to the end, washed in the water of his children's baptism, bathed in the tears of his loved ones. Hands that were scared, cut, and broken, but beautiful to behold.
I would love to touch those hands. They are the only part I can remember. They were our last form of communication, the last, "I love yous". The strong firm grasp never faded, only turned cold. I should have held harder! I should have held longer!
My own fail miserably by comparison. They shake and tremble, they grow weak and tired. They cannot support a ring, no longer form any words, and long to avoid the touch of others.
Please take my hand, and hold me up. Let me feel for one fleeting moment your love and strength flow through them and rejuvenate my soul. Please just take my hand.............
About Me
- Schneider
- I am a mom, a daughter, a sister, a teacher, a friend, a goofball, a dreamer
2 comments:
You underestimate your own hands. You have good, strong hands too. You hold people up all the time. And there are many people who offer their hands to you too. I am one-- don't forget this. If your car ever breaks down, and you're stuck on the side of the road, I know someone else you could call too. I'm not great at changing tires, but I did it once.
You realize you haven't posted anything since Dec. 2nd. Don't you have a love-dove poem to write? Something sappy now that you're standing at the end of the hall. Of course it's lunch duty. Of course.
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