My mother died in 1994.suddenly; a heart attack on Monday gone by Friday, just of course, when we thought she was getting better. The eldest of the three kids I was 34 years old, all grown up, I thought, but too young to lose my mother.
A few weeks after she passed I looked down, for some reason, at my hands. Amazingly enough I recognized my own mother’s hands there at the end of my arms. I had never seen them there before and no one had ever mentioned it to me but there they were ten fingers and all.
Many years have passed. I don’t see my mother’s hands anymore but it’s comforting to know they are there.
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