The power of the healing hands of loved ones is infinite.

Two weeks ago my dad died.

It has been very hard.

My heart has a hole in it that has no edges. The hole just ebbs and flows like the tide.

But healing has been happening, and it has been happening with the connection and love that comes from sharing such a shattering time with loved ones who are going through it with you. And it happens with the sharing of memories, and hugs, and tears, and the daily chores that must go on.

It comes with the healing power of hands: hands that hug, hands that wipe away tears, hands that clasp, hands that gently pat, hands that clap, hands that chop and slice and wipe and serve.

And much of that healing happens in the kitchen – at least in our family it does. And food is always part of it.

In the loving act of preparing nourishment for the swarm of aching hearts and bodies streaming through the house in the past few weeks, many hands were busy.

I remember my dad’s hands and wish I could hold them again.

Healing Hands.

Healing Hands of Love.

 

 

 

 

 

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