Bessie's hands

When thinking about my grandmother, I always remember her hands. As long as I can recall, and she was able, she always worked hard....her hands rarely failing her, even in her last days. She worked in her garden, her kitchen, at her sewing machine, or quilting in her lap. Even in the last month of her life when she was resting peacefully in her bed she was still using her hands. With eyes closed she would slowly and deliberately gather her sheet working diligently on something only she was aware of. Even after her body had worn out from life and illness, her hands never failed her.

The only ring I ever remember my grandmother wearing was her wedding band. It was very simple and made of silver and she told me once that it used to have small silver roses on it but they had all worn off. I know it was because of her hard working hands. The last time I was with her, one afternoon I was standing by her bed and I took her hand in mine for a moment or so I thought. As I started to pull away I felt her squeeze my hand so I waited a moment. As I then started to pull away, again she squeezed my hand. And so, I pulled up a chair and we sat...my grandmother and me, quietly holding hands for the last time. For me that day it was just a simple act of love for my grandmother but now I realize it was a precious last memory...

I love you Bessie.