Holding Hands

I have always been a junkie for holding hands but since having children it has become one of my all time favorite things to do.  I feel like so much is communicated while holding hands with my husband, my parents, my grandparents, friends, and now my children.  I remember holding my grandmother's hands the last time I saw her before she died.  I remember her hands being worn and the skin soft like tissue paper.  I remember seeing the veins and relishing all the times she had held my hand throughout my life.  I could see the veins pumping the blood through her body not knowing she only had a little time left before that would end.  All my life I had seen her hands making Sunday dinner, reading the paper, drinking coffee, holding me, bringing me small gifts, walking with me as we exercised together after her heart attack.  Her hands were ones of beauty, hard working and loving, tough and tender, old and wise, they were everything I pray my hands will be in the life I have to live.  They were everything I hope my children and grandchildren will see in my hands as I age. 

On January 24th I remembered my Grandmother's birthday and I celebrated her life and the life that lives on in me and my family.  She would have been 87 and I remember it because we were 50 years apart almost to the day.  I thought about those hands all day and I relished in the memories of her life and mine so intertwined her memory palpable to me on that day and on many others. 

On my 37th birthday the next day I held hands with Marin while she drifted off to sleep and last night I held hands with Symeon and we both fell asleep together laying in his bed.  When I woke up a bit later I realized we were both still holding hands.  I often ask them to hold hands walking down the sidewalk, laying in bed, watching tv, and sometimes when they are upset in the car or anywhere they will ask me to hold my hand and I am always willing, like a puppy being praised, I offer my hand with a joyful heart. 

I love the feel of their sweet chubby hands wrapped in mine.  I love the warmth that flows between us unspoken and I try to burn into my mind how small their hands are and how they fit into my Mama hand and I realize that my Grandmother use to have that same feeling this tiny little hand held tight and warm in her hand.  The last time I saw her when we talked about what she wanted shared at her funeral I realized that her hand seemed small in mine, fragile and the tides of life had changed.  My hand was then the strong loving reassuring hand that was promising to take care of things when she could not. I listened to her hopes, needs, wants, and desires just like she always listened to mine. 

When I shared at her funeral  6 months pregnant with my first baby trying to put into words a lifetime of love I was struck by her hands resting peacefully.  I was heartbroken that those hands would not hold my children or feel that new born hand wrap his tiny fist around her finger but yet every time I hold my children's hands I realize she is ever present, ever loving, and passing along her love from her hands to mine to theirs.  I will hold hands with the people I love as often and as long as possible and I will treasure every moment of unspoken love that passes between us.  Thank you Grandma for a legacy of hand holding I pray it will be a part of my legacy as well.