HANDS...

I went to get my nails done the other day and had a man do them...a bit unusual for me and as he took my hand I realized that the one thing that was so much a part of my life is no longer...holding hands...

Michael and I always held hands...a small squeeze of the hand was our signal of "I love you"...no matter where we were our hands always gravitated toward one another...even when we slept somehow our hands always touched...and I didn't realize until the other day just how much I missed that.

Hands...I've been a "hand" person for as long as I can remember...my mother's hand draped over the front seat as my father drove and my sister and brother and I were in the backseat...her hand just hanging there always brought me comfort...my dad's long fingers holding a cigarette or a cigar in one hand and a drink in another always reminded me of a movie...Nana Foley's hands, twisted with age...

Hands that tell the story of people's lives...and always at the end of their lives it is the hands that I remember...Stroking Nana's hands in the nursing home as she told me stories of her youth...Mom's hands still and lifeless as she lay in the hospital bed...Dad's hands trying to help me put his feeding tube in...Allison's hands, so young and beautiful as she played with her laptop...Michael's hands reaching for me, always reaching for me and then so still...

Michael's hands, as he lay in the casket were so very beautiful...long and slender and wearing his wedding ring and draped in rosary beads...someone said they were so beautiful that we should take a picture...we didn't...I wish we had...

For if I had taken a picture then I would remember the hands that I love so much...his gentle hands that worked so hard to make a life for his family...hands that loved me...hands that changed diapers and fixed boo-boos...hands that clapped the loudest when his boys did something good...hands that slapped high fives when his teams scored a touchdown...hands that welcomed you in...hands that reached out when someone needed him...

Michael's hands weren't the nicest hands, but in my opinion they were the best...I miss those hands...I miss holding his hand, stroking his hand, squeezing his hand...but most of all I miss the squeeze back...I miss holding his hand...