Hands

hands.

stretching wide good morning

dripping slimy teething

jumping firecracker! excited to eat

caressing gently flat nursing

grasping clumsy discovering

clasping tight sour fists

sweating clammy cool unsettled

holding mama's hand sleeping (stay with me)

folding peaceful good night.

your hands are beautiful

Paul Arnold--born March 1, 1949 in Igloo, SD to Arnold and Maxine. Paul passed away May 8, 2004. I hadn't seen him since March or so and was due to see him that very day.

Every once in a while I find it valuable for me to write a little about my father. I suppose it helps me with the continual grieving process of which I'm going through--maybe it helps me to feel as though he's not forgotten. I often wonder if he'd be proud of where I am and where I've been--the choices I've made and how I've changed over the last nearly seven years since his death. I wonder if there'd be a particular day of the week we'd talk more than others (Sundays sound as though they'd make a good catch-up-with-your-dad kind of day). When we talked--I'm sure we'd discuss things big and small. Everything from theology to news from the technology world. Although an odd question--I wonder if he would have gotten a smart phone. I wonder if his insightfulness would have allowed me to make some choices differently or helped Meghan and me decide one thing or another. I wonder how often he and Mom would come to visit and what those visits would consist of. I ask myself how special it would have been for Annelise to be baptized and later confirmed by him. I wonder what the 'special connection' that Dad would have had with her--he seemed to have one with each of the grandkids.

I think I've typed and deleted a conclusion to this blog post 6-7 times. It seems as though I get started and then I just fall off. I run out of things to say or have some weird (irrational) fear that I'll sound corny or dorky so I'll just end it like this:

Dad, I miss you!