The Hands

October 4th was my Daddy's birthday!

He would have been 69 years old.

And I still miss him...

It's been almost 4 years since Moma and I held his hand and he slipped away.  I didn't know what to say.  I just held his hand and listen to a nurse tell him how much Moma and I loved him.  All I could do was kiss his hand and rub it.  I didn't want to let it go...

Those were the hands that I loved when they held me.  They were the hands that made the most beautiful things out of wood.  They were the hands that could fix anything.

They were the hands that I looked forward to telling me that I did my best.  They were the hands that hugged me when I needed a pick-me-up.  They were the hands that corrected me when I needed it.

They were the hands that held his first grandson.  They were the hands that patted a colicly baby and stopped the colic.  They were the hands that corrected his grandson with just a touch of his back.  They were the hands that held his little boy when he cried.

They were the hands that I watched age.  They were the hands that I saw become weak with age and disease. 

Those were the hands that never got to hold his second grandson.

They are the hands I miss not only today but everyday....