Daddy’s Hands

handsWriting hasn’t been a priority lately.  You may have noticed.  Well, you probably didn’t notice and that’s okay/  If you’ve ever read my blog it was ,most  likely because someone you love has Alzheimer’s disease or dementia and will understand. I haven’t written because there really wasn’t much to say.  Not much has changed.

While I wasn’t writing, I have continued to grieve over the loss of my Dad.  No, he hasn’t died but he is every bit as gone as if that were true.  Dad has lost a lot of ground.  His communication is random and mostly a garbled mix of sounds that once were parts of words.  He still smiles if you act like you told him something funny and on a really good day, you can tell him who you are and he will say something like “that[‘s nice”.

I have become obsessed with Daddy’s hands.  I think of his hands often and remember the gentleness of his touch.  Sometimes late at night I flash back to better days when his strong grip on my shoulder was as close to a hug as he could muster at the time.  Mostly I remember him walking up behind my mother and scratching her back tenderly.  It was how he said “I love you” to her without words.

My Dad wore two rings; one on each hand.  He never took them off.  One, his wedding band and the other a ruby Masonic ring that was passed down through the family when he became a Mason.  Dad lost the ruby ring about a year ago and he has lost so much weight that we took his wedding band home before it too was lost.  Even without the rings, I am still obsessed with Daddy’s hands.  The hands are all that physically resemble this man who has held my heart in those hands for almost 60 years and oh how I miss him.

It’s funny how something as simple as the sight of those hands can trigger a lifetime of memories. And I find myself wondering if Alzheimer’s will one day steal those too.

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One thought on “Daddy’s Hands

  1. Your mentioning your dad’s hand on your shoulder brought back instant memories of my own dad’s hand on mine. So much love in those brief touches. I am sorry for your loss, for the extended grief you felt as your father slipped further and further away. I hope you continue to feel comforted in the love you felt all those years, and the wonderful memories you have of him.

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