Shutter Sisters

To Have and To Hold

By

After all this time, she still did not know exactly what his hands looked like.  She had never studied them or noticed them really, taking for granted they would always be available for further examination, should she ever decide to be curious.

Now that time seemed to be running out, she regretted neglecting the privilege of holding them.  She could see now for the first time how young they seemed and in some strange way how fragile.  She marveled that they had no lines, no resistance, no sign of struggle or defiance.

No one could say really why any of this was so, and if they could, she understood this would mostly be a made up story to make her feel better, to distract her from everything she knew now she would not have, of everything she understood now, she would not hold. 

In lieu of a story she would have this picture.  In lieu of his hands, she would have this memory: how he sat on the bench with a child on each side and without malice or pride, folded his hands together and let her go.

Comments

  4. Wow. Emotional rollercoaster to go from Love Thursday’s Joy, to this beautiful, heartbreaking post. I love it all.

    Thank you – that is beautiful.

  12. I have to add that those hands sound & look a lot like my husband’s….. xoxo, ~ M.

  16. Wow, how very heartbreaking and even heartwarming in a way. I want to reach out to give you a hug. Such open honesty. I have felt this way (yes, about her hands) since my mother died — I realize it’s a different situation but that’s where my mind goes after reading this.

  22. Jen, you have such a beautiful way with words and photos. I always know it’s you posting without needing to look at the author. I want to know more about you and your stories.

  24. Such a deeply insightful post. Made me stop back and realize how much I would miss my husband’s hands. Thanks for bringing a little awareness to my day.

  27. these words leave me feeling sad and anxious and curious.

    well written. seriously…i keep coming back to the and reading it again and again.

  28. I can’t stand it. Can you tell us more? What’s happening? Is someone you love dear Jen?

  31. after reading this a few times, i sit here listening to the sounds in my little house…the heater kick on…my dog millie sighs in the corner of the room, nestled in her bed. in this midst of these sounds in this room, my heart recognizes the truth (and beauty) of this post and sends peace to whomever might need it in this moment.

  32. My whole evening shifted after I read this post last night. I wrote for a long time about my mother’s hands. Then I wrote about my father’s hands. Next came Leah’s tiny little hands with long beautiful fingers. And lastly, my sweetheart’s hands. I returned to Shutter Sisters today to see if your words and image still have so much power to evoke so much emotion in me. Yes. Hauntingly beautiful.