Don't know how to put into words exactly how I feel about this impending week. A year ago on the 5th, I lost my mother. If you read this blog on a regular basis, you know that I miss her dearly. Each day I struggle with her death and I attempt to make life whole again without her. It has been a tough year. I will attempt to write about my mom this week. I want to remember her. I want others to know more about her. And, I want to share bits and pieces of HER story.
When I think of my mom and the things I miss about her, the one physical thing that always comes to mind is her hands. My mother had beautiful hands. They were so youthful looking and they were always soft (must have been her favorite H2O hand lotion). I can remember sitting in church and playing with the rings on her hands when I was little. I loved to hold her hands. When Shelly reaches out to hold my hand I think of the days when I was feeling shy as a child and all I wanted was my mom's hand.
(My mom and Shelly...look at those perfect hands)
Not only were my mom's hands beautiful but they served as the tools that helped her to create hundeds of wonderful crafts over the years. She would sit and knit and carry on meaningful conversations with me while she did. She made ornaments, she crafted cards and scrapbook pages, she even had a box of origami shapes that she had artfully created with those hands. My mother had gorgeous handwriting that could be found inside the cards and letters she sent. Her hands formed those words with care and love. Her hands were never idle.
I miss my mom's hands and the way they felt in mine. Some have said that my hands resemble my mother's. When I hear others say this, I feel so honored to think that my hands might just might look like my mom's. Right now, I wish she was sitting next to me and I would be asking her to once again put out her hands and I would compare mine next to hers. And I would tell her, "Mom your hands look so much younger than mine. You have such pretty hands." And she would just laugh.