My mother's hands

It doesn't take much for me to get teary eyed these days regarding my mother, who has slipped a notch or two on the Alzheimer's scale this past month. Sitting with Mama yesterday, I took her hands and gave her a love squeeze hoping she would return the gesture. She didn't, but I have to believe that she was squeezing my hands in her heart. What's ironic is while tears are streaming down my face as I'm holding her hand, my mother, who used to be so compassionate just stares as me. I wonder if she's thinking anything. Does she remember all the things she used to do for us with those hands?

Here are some concrete memories of Mama's hands:

• Peanut butter smile - Whenever Mama opened up a new jar of peanut butter, she would draw a smile with the knife on the smooth surface of the peanut butter before digging in and making us our beloved pb & j sandwiches.
• This little Piggy Went to Market - We used to ask Mama to say this nursery rhyme to us with her hands holding ours and going through the motions.
• Cutting my fingernails with her fingernail scissors - I loved to ask Mama to cut my fingernails. She was so careful.
• Washing our hair in the kitchen sink - Mama laid us on the kitchen counter supporting our heads in the sink and gently washing our hair.
• Gently squeezing our cheeks and giving us a kiss
• Checking to see if we had a fever
• Blowing us a kiss when saying goodbye
• Coming our hair and getting the tangles out, very careful not to hurt us

And then there are the countless other activities that I associate with Mama's hands:

• Sewing our clothes
• Washing dishes
• Hanging out clothes to dry
• Folding our clothes
• Ironing our clothes
• Driving us wherever we needed to go
• "Pasting up pages" at The Daily Herald so that our family had enough money to have a few extras in life
  
• Helping us type our research papers
• Picking vegetables from the garden
• Cooking breakfast every morning (biscuits on Sunday!)
• Filling out college financial aid forms

I wonder if Mama ever had any fun?

What's funny is that my hands are shaped like my mother's hands, and sometimes when I look at them I see Mama, and the tears start flooding and there's nothing I can do about it. This has happened at work before! One small difference, however: my hands don't have half the stories to tell that Mama's hands have.

Comments

[Sue]

Frannie, my hands are very like my mom's, too; and I've thought about writing about that before. You did a beautiful job; what a loving tribute to your dear mother.

[Ellen]

Our mother's hands are most wonderful! Beautiful blog.