Friday, February 19, 2016

he holds

My grandparents have been married 72 years.  72 YEARS.  They met when she was 12 and he was 14.  They are now 92 and 94, respectively. I am so inspired by them and this lifetime of love and commitment.  I love hearing stories from when they were dating and early married.  My favorite is a story about a time when they had decided to break up and see other people...until my grandmother saw him kissing another girl, and she realized that was her man.  She obviously won him back and the rest they say, is history.  

Two years ago, my grandma was very sick and in the ICU for a couple of weeks.  We didn't know if she was going to make it, and it was a scary time for all of us.  This little 5 foot woman is loved fiercely.  After spending hours and hours at the hospital, I did what I do to process.  I wrote.  Only this time, it came out in the form of a poem of sorts.  A tribute to them in a way.  

Love you, Gram and Pops.  




he holds
Today he held his head with one hand.  In the other, he white knuckled an equally white plastic bag all during the surgery.  As we sat and waited, he held that bag like it was her life.  Inside of it, were bits of her - her hair brush, hearing aids, and a tube of lipstick.  He knows that when she gets better, these are the immediate things she will want.  So, he holds them close because he can't hold her.  
In the room, he holds her hand and strokes her hair.  He pats her arm gently, almost awkwardly because he's not sure what to do.  Seventy years together and in this sterile place, all these tubes and wires get in the way of what has been worn into their skin and selves all these years.  Holding her hand has never been this difficult.  He pats, shakes his head, chin trembles, tears well.  
He has held her through so many seasons.  Through war and peace.  Through sickness and health.  Through babies and grandbabies and great grandbabies.  He has held her across miles and roads and bridges that map their life together in a beautiful web, criss-crossing time and space to the places and people they hold dear.   
He has held the bricks that built their home, the worry for their future, and the cards she loves to play.  He knows her head, her wrist, her back, her waist better than his own because he has held them for decades upon decades.  Their curves carved into his own.   
And he would hold her seventy more.  Or even seven minutes more, because after all this holding, it's impossible to let go.  



10 comments:

  1. So beautiful - your words, their love, just all of it. What a treasure. Thanks for sharing!

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    Replies
    1. Thank you, Kristin! I feel so blessed to have this legacy passed down.

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  2. Amy, this is so beautiful. Thank you for sharing your words.

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  3. Beautiful sentiments that are beautifully written

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    Replies
    1. Thank you, Christy! Hope you are enjoying blogging too. :)

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  4. Amy, your comments and observations are so dear. You are fortunate to have such a legacy of love and devotion.

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