Daddy's Hands

I wrote this a while back and it was on here last year, but I am so busy with our homeschool graduation open house we're having on Saturday - AND since this is about my dear Daddy - I thought I would re-submit it.  After all, there are always new people who might enjoy it.

Blessings, Kim Wolf<><

Daddy’s Hands

My Daddy died on June 3, 1999 and I can’t believe that it’s been so long since I’ve held his hands.  My family has a tradition of taking pictures of our loved ones in their casket; I took a picture of my Daddy’s hands.  Oh, how I miss their touch, because my Daddy loved me with those hands.

My Daddy’s hands were the hardest working hands I’ve ever known, but my Daddy’s hands were also the most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen on a man.  No matter how hard he worked, at the end of the day his hands would always be clean and his nails clipped.  My Daddy loved me with those hands.

My Daddy’s left hand happily wore his wedding ring for just days shy of 51 years.  My Daddy’s hands could produce some of the most beautiful woodwork and macrame you ever saw and my Daddy’s hands could fix anything.  My Daddy loved me with those hands.

My Daddy’s hands cuddled and loved me as a weak, sick little surviving twin baby.  My Daddy’s hands turned countless pages in bedtime storybooks and could give the very best knee rubs in the middle of the night when growing pains would hit.  My Daddy loved me with those hands.

My Daddy’s hands could do tricks and play games.  My Daddy’s hands could spank, shame and scold me when I needed it.  My Daddy loved me with those hands, too.

My Daddy’s hands comforted me when bullies bothered me at school.  My Daddy’s hands comforted my broken teenage heart; many times.  My Daddy loved me with those hands.

My Daddy’s hands applauded me at tap dance recitals, band concerts and when I would sing.  My Daddy loved me with those hands.

My Daddy’s hands slipped my hand into my husband’s hand when he gave me away.  My Daddy’s hands comforted my husband and I when our first daughter died.  And my Daddy’s hands loved and played with our two other daughters.  My Daddy loved us with those hands.

And then, on that sad day when all the machines were silent, I was holding my Daddy’s hand as he left us and went to stand before the Lord.  My Daddy’s hands loved me to the last.

A daddy’s hands are the most expressive, tangible way that a father can show his love for his family.  I wish all fathers had hands like my Daddy.  My Daddy loved me with those hands.

By:  Kim Wolf

May 23, 2000

Thank you for sharing this!

07:07, 2006-Jun-15 .. Posted by wife2elliot

I read this with tears in my eyes that spilled over and ran down my face by the time I was finished..this is a beautiful description of your father's love for you and although some may not have these hands in their earthly father, they DO in their Heavenly Father..
I lost my father, too, and as Father's Day approaches,I would love to slip my hand in his..just one more time.
Sharing Prayers,
Lynne

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10:05, 2006-Jun-17 .. Posted by jinyeah3

Thanks for sharing that! I don't have any other words.
Jenette.

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01:55, 2006-Jun-18 .. Posted by HSBFrontPorch

What a beautiful tribute to your father - I can hardly see to type! Thank you for sharing ~

Harriette Jacobs
on behalf of
~Nancy Carter
Senior Editor of Homestead Blogger