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May 23, 2011


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Hey, you. Good for you. I am sending you a huge e-hug because you're beautiful and you're human and you're living the shit out of your life and I love you for it.


Damn it Amanda. It is hard to type through tears. The last picture I took of my mom right before she died, was of my hand holding her hand.

I was talking on the phone with my sister-in-law after my husband passed away, and she started crying. She explained that since her parents had passed away, that it only took the smallest, simplest things to start her tears. She used an example of an older couple getting gas. I have had many things that have made me tear up for my husband and my mom, but none like your post today.

Thank you for ... I dunno... for putting emotions into words, for reminding me that life is a circle, and that it is ok that I see that I have my mom's knees, and that I say things that I know she would say.

"But when I remember my mother's hands, I'm filled with nothing but gratitude. Love. Appreciation.
My mother did the best she could with the hands she was dealt."

ok... now I have to get ready for work with snotty nose and red eyes. :)


Beautiful post. Somewhat unrelated, you should listen to this episode of the All in the Mind podcast - it touches upon grandmothers in a very eye opening way, from the perspective of evolutionary biology. Apparently humans are one of the only species that lets others care for our babies, and having our parents around while we are parents are essential to the long childhoods our children need to grow their big brains.


So feeling nostalgic about mom holding Alex wasn't just nostalgia, it was the millions of years of evolution inside of you saying "grandmother + baby = survival"


Thank you for this post. Sometimes I can relate to you on so many levels...and this is one of them. I can't give my children those either and I worry worry worry that it will affect them so horrendously in the future, but I'm doing the best I can. And I hope they can see me this way too someday.




Tomorrow is the 8th anniversary of my grandmother's death. Her hands are one of the first things I picture when I think of her. She was terribly crippled, causing people to stop and stare and treat her with horrific disrespect. But those hands - they were kind and gentle, tender and sensitive. And she told me enough to know it was true that she wouldn't have traded her hands for any others. She accepted her curse as a gift of sorts. And she used those gnarled hands to help shape my world.

Tears for your healing journey and for the remembrances that make us human. Thank you for sharing today.

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