I’m not good at moments of silence. I can’t meditate. I’ve never been capable of clearing my mind of all thoughts. Instead, I think about things like what I’m going to eat next, if the rain will clear out, whether or not I have time to run an errand once the moment is over. I don’t want anyone to know I’m not focusing, so I look down at my hands.
That’s what I thought about today, my hands. As I looked down I noticed how old they looked. I thought about how one might be able to deceive their age with Botox injections and youthful clothes, but hands always give you away. As a kid, I remember thinking my Mother’s hands looked old. Her veins popped like a soft blue circuit board. They looked different from my young hands, no veins popped through. There was no supple, soft skin around each joint. My hands were young. My Mother’s hands were old.
I have my Mother’s hands now. Soft. Loose. Crisscrossed with puffy, blue veins. Old. I think I’m as old as she was when I first noticed her hands.
I’ve noticed this before, the oldness of my hands. But today, for the first time, I was grateful for them.
Grateful for the chance to have old hands.
You see, the moment of silence today was during a memorial service for an American Soldier.
A fallen Soldier who was born when I was a freshman in high school. Who graduated from his high school and enlisted in the Army the year I turned 35.
Who died a few months shy of his own 23rd birthday.
His life, cut so short that he will never have old hands. The blue, puffy, pulsing veins in his hands will never give away his age when he tries to pretend he is a younger man. He’ll never watch as his newborn baby grasps his finger with his tiny perfect hand. He will never look down one day and realize that he now has his Father’s hands.
He gave all that up. Willingly. Bravely. Selflessly.
For me.
And for you.
So that we can each live long enough to have old hands.
Thank you.
crying w/goose bumps. Beautiful post. Thinking of this soldiers family from S. Korea.
Thanks Christine. These guys deserve so much more recognition than they get.
Thank you for sharing this moment with us. As I look at my own hands and think of that young man, only two years older than my twins, I send a prayer up. Not only for that young man and his family, but for all those brave young men still in harms way, doing the job not many sign up to do, and their brave families at home keeping the faith. Stay strong.
Thank you, I’m trying to be strong.
Bridget, I, too, have difficulty with moments of silence. I also look at my hands and think how old they are. After reading this, I will thank God for my old hands. I notice hands and will look at the trembling,scarred, vein encrusted, liver spotted ones in a new light. So sad to lose someone so young who will never be able to have old hands. God bless him and his family. He is a hero who will never have old hands. You made me cry with this one. You go through so much as an army wife. Stay strong. sending hugs xxoo mom
Thanks mom.
I want Dallas to come home now.
Me too.
I came here following a link from a friend, expecting some quirky twin humor – not expecting a somber, thought provoking piece. Thank you. Too often, it’s easy to forget that there are men and women on guard around the globe protecting what we take for granted.
This is what makes Bridgit so so (so) special.
Most days here are full of quirky twin humor.
Laugh-out-loud commentary about her life. Life in general.
Then there are the days she knocks the wind out of us.
I am so grateful for her.
Thank you, Julie. I’m grateful for you and all the support from everyone here.
Thank you, John. This blog usually is humor – but some days life gets in they way.
beautiful post. What a sacrifice he made for our country.
The greatest sacrifice of all.
Amazing post and so true. As a cancer survivor I always try to have that attitude, but even so there are days when I think my hands look old too…Beautifully written!
Thank you. We should all spend a little more time being grateful just for being here.
Your writing moves me.
I just wrote a post about aging, vanity and whatnot for next week, so the first few paragraphs of this post I was all, omg, I can’t believe we wrote practically the same post (we didn’t). And now I’m thinking, getting old isn’t so bad, is it, because we’re here to see it.
I’m not sure I made any sense here. But your writing? It moves me.
It makes sense. Thank you friend!
Oh, this gives us some awesome perspective. How many times have we bemoaned the wrinkles and gray hairs, forgetting those who would give anything for them.
This is beautiful…
Thank you so much.
Something to consider and be grateful for every single day. Thank you, Bridget.
There’s always something to be grateful for – even just being alive.
I am very proud o my sister, Bridget….but today I am extra proud. Sometimes you blow me away with the way you put things into words, and today is one of those days.
Thank you, Joe. Love you.
I think often of my hands and my mother’s, too.
This puts a whole new perspective on that look at aging.
Lovely post.
Thank you, Gigi. Until this day I hated my old hands. Not anymore.
AMEN! ! !
Thanks:)
Thank you Bridget, for this post. I have been struggling with the general public’s seemingly increasing fascination with only themselves…no time to stop for a school bus with red lights flashing, can’t be bothered to put down their phones while driving powerful multi-thousand pound vehicles, won’t even pull off to the side of the road to let emergency vehicles pass. These indiscretions I have all witnessed or heard about this week alone. It is a relief to read one story acknowledging, appreciating and honoring a fellow human being.
Thanks, Jenny. I’m glad it gave you some perspective – I know it’s hard some days not to be annoyed with everyone!
EXCELLENT – Didn’t see it coming. You do fine work, Bridget.
Thank you, Dana.
You… You’re amazing. And I agree with Kim. I want Dallas to come home now.
Thanks, Jo. He can’t get here fast enough for me.
Sometimes…you make me cry. And for that, I thank you. By the way, you write beautifully. Hope that got you back.
Thanks, Nami. When I write this stuff, I cry too.
Well. After reading this we don’t really have anything to complain about do we? The part about the newborn baby brought me to tears. That really puts it all in perspective. I can’t wait for all of this to be over. For you, for your husband, and for every soldier and their family out there.
For you too, friend. Even though Dan is home I know both your hearts are with all of us.
Thanks for this, B. Thanks for reminding us that we all worry about the silly, petty things while there are families who are truly suffering and that we need to support them in any way we can. Take care of you. x
Thanks, Grace. It’s true, there is always someone making sacrifices for each of us.
((( SHIVERS )))
Love Love Love. Xx
Thanks, Kim. xoxo
[...] a very sweet and tender post about our last memorial, then go to my friend Bridget’s blog Twinisms. (Just click on on the word Twinisms.) Media is usually not allowed into [...]
This is such a beautiful tribute, and a reminder to always be grateful for our blessings!
Thank you, Candice.