Entry Date: Monday, May 23, 2005
Title:

Message:

January 31st
I watch the snow fall and think of his hands. Some association, huh? I wonder what a shrink would do with that tidbit? But he need only ask and I would embellish it into understanding.

You see, he had this funny old coat that was my brother’s before it became his. Don’t ask why. I cannot remember how that all happened, but that coat still hangs in my closet. It has wonderfully big pockets and when we would walk together in the cold he always took my hand in his and slipped the two of them into the pocket.

I wonder if other widows (aaaagh, that word again) focus on singular features of their loved ones? You see it is already difficult to visualize him as a whole. At first I could not allow myself to picture him, it was too painful to envision something unattainable. And now I am unable to see him except in brief scenes which flash before me and are gone before I can grasp them.

So I see his hands. They are a man’s hands. Strong and large and rough. They were used in creation but never in harm. And they held mine, warming me against the cold.

I see the snow fall and I think of his hands