my papa did not want my mom to let go of his hand. while he slept at home or at the hospital he just needed to know she was there.
he was always afraid…a bit scared most of the time. he often told us that he wanted us there during hospital visits when the docs and nurses came in his room or by his side. and he always felt a bit scared when my mother would take a trip to the store and leave him at home by “himself”. he wasn’t alone. never. we were with him. he knew that. but i think deep inside he just wanted to let my mom know she was special. toward the end of his life he did need her more than ever. more than he needed anyone else. she stayed by his side all the time.
when i sat for a while at his bedside holding his hand, humming a little lullaby, i realised, i never took a foto of them holding hands. I guess i found it a bit inappropriate or shallow or guilty for trying to capture a bittersweet , sad moment. still, i took my fone out my pocket and i snapped this foto. just a reminder of how we always held his hand through this whole struggle. he was brave.
my mom and my sisters…and most of us know this…but this is just a reminder of how important holding hands is…the power of touch.