My Granny's Hands

My Granny had the most distinct hands.  I was fascinated by them as a child.  For as long as I remember, they were covered in age spots.  Her fingernails were long, and as they grew they would curl under.  They looked a little different, but boy, they gave good back scratches!  I distinctly remember lying on her plaid scratchy couch with my head on one of her flattened throw pillows on her lap as she would scratch my back as a kid.  That and ice cream were part of the ritual of a visit to her house for me.  I remember that I always loved her wedding ring, and I remember the Christmas that my Pap gave her another ring that was equally as mesmerizing for me as a child.  It seemed huge.  It was a cluster of diamonds that was similar to a big, flat daisy flower.  I loved her hands in those rings.  They were part of her - who she was.  I remember being so sad when I went to see her in the assisted living place that she spent a couple of the last years of her life.  Her hands were bare.  Her rings were gone.  It was like part of her was missing.  My dad told me that he had taken her rings and placed them in safe keeping, so she wouldn't lose them or trade them or give them away... something that was quite possible in her state of Alzheimers.  I understood it, but it saddened me greatly.  Everything about my Granny was changing, and the fact that she had to be without those rings was almost like a part of her body was changed too.  When she died, my dad received one ring (the second ring), and his brother received her wedding ring.  When I saw my mom this Christmas I noticed that she had a new ring.  It was beautiful - 3 diamonds on white filigree gold.  I asked her about it, and she said that they had had it made from Granny's ring.  While I understood that it is only logical to have something made out of the ring that she would enjoy, my heart was a little broken at the idea that Granny's ring was no more. 

the last time that I saw Granny and got to touch her lovely hands

On the morning of our family's Christmas this year, my mom told my sisters and me to line up and open our gift from her and my dad at the same time as each other.  We were all handed matching little gold gift sacks, and it was obvious that we were all getting similar gifts.  That is not unusual.  This year though, I read the tag... To:Amy  From: Mom & Dad and Gran & Pap.  I instantly started crying, and I think that I just kept saying, "Oh no.  Oh no.  Oh no."  At first, I didn't know what it was, but anything that had been theirs would have been a treasure and to see their names on a gift to me, this Christmas in particular... unspeakable.  As I pulled the little jewelry store box from the little gold gift bag, I knew what it was.  A part of the ring.  I lost it.  I am loosing it still.  I opened the little jewelry box to see the most beautiful solitaire diamond drop necklace. Truly.  It is beautiful!  My sisters all had identical gifts.  We all now have a piece of not only Granny's ring but also what feels like a piece of Granny.  

Thank you, Mom & Dad, for the precious gift!