It was the softness of his hands
That made me weep
Soft and cold and still in Death
They were warm once with life and love
How could they be cold now?
He was so warm with love and caring.
But now his hands are still forever.
They were clever hands, made for working
Grimed and greased and warm to hold.
I held them often
And they held me.
So closely that our hearts beat as one.
Now his heart is still and silent.
My heart will continue to keep time
All the while asking
"When? Oh when? "
I placed a rose within his hands
And kissed him one last time
Upon lips as cold as Winter
His hands were soft and cold
And didn't respond to my touch
I whispered a word of farewell .
It will be our greeting
When we meet again

Author Notes

These are the first words I have written on the passing of my husband. He is sadly missed by those he left behind but joyously welcomed into the ranks of the people he loved who have gone before. Wait for me darling. Wait for me. The artwork is by Seshadri Sreenivasan. It brings forth the sense of aloneness I feel amid the vastness of Creation.