Someone asked me today if I could share something very meaningful and unsual about my trip to Ireland and my very first thought was about all the wonderful people that I met and the relationships that blossomed there. And then I remembered how during many of my conversations, my hand would be entwined with whomever I was speaking with at the time... creating the intimacy of friendship.......forming a bond. Occasionaly, there was the mere grasp of someone's hand and a gentle squeeze.......and even that connected with me and touched my heart.
Four years ago, following my Mom's brain surgery, I walked into her recovery room and the first thing I did was grab her hand. We had just learned that despite a successful surgery, she was terminal. Her hand was warm........and so incredibly soft..........and I remember thinking that I never wanted to forget that very moment and how her hand felt in mine. I thought about the fact that she was once a child who lovingly placed her hand into that of her mother..........and then became a mother herself...and lovingly held my hand........and then I became a mother........and held the hands of my own children........and now those of my grandbabies.
Now this is where I thought it would be really cute to upload a photo I thought I had taken of Baby Fletcher's hand in mine. I know I took one. I searched my photo folders on my desktop to no avail. Assuming it must be amongst one of the many on my phone, I started flipping through to see if I could find it. And instead I found this...a photo I had totally forgotten I had taken of my hand...nestled in my Dad's. I spent the last 18 days of his life, at his bedside........with my hand in his.........every day.........until his last breath.........I held his hand in mine.
Now I know why...reaching out and touching someone's hand...is so meaningful.
