Hands. What simple yet complex parts. One of my favorite parts of my 18 years with my partner was his hands. His soft fingers that rubbed my own. The security in fingers entwined from the first night we met. Loving touch. Holding hearts by holding hands. The stability of knowing we could hold hands and be together through thick and thin. The strong hands that pushed on my back as we together labored with our beloved children. The hands that rubbed our children's fresh wounds.
Together our family got to watch ET the movie a year ago. This photograph brings me to tears. In it I see our youngest child sitting on her daddy's lap, touching her daddy's hand, each comforting one another in their special way. I miss this moment. So much bitter and sweet in the bittersweet story of our lives together. Such beauty and pain wrapped up together in our human experience. I appreciate the contrasting emotions we feel all at the same time, the depth in how we love one another, the ways we stay connected, the vastness of it all. I am thankful for these hands and the loved shared by holding each other.
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