Daniel's hands

A day after Daniel passed away Ryan and I were out getting much needed supplies from Target and washing the car. I was sitting numbly in the passenger seat during the carwash, still in complete shock, when all of a sudden I looked up at my windshield and noticed a handprint on the glass. All I could do was stare at it. I knew for a fact it was Daniel's. He was constantly wanting to climb into the front of the car and touch everything. That was one of my first signs that God and Daniel were with us and were always going to be with us. And I cannot let it go. My windshield desperately needs to be cleaned and I cannot do it. I love those hands of his. I need that handprint right now. My time in my car is everything to me and having his handprint beside me gives me courage to make it one more day, to be thankful for what God has still graced me with, and a gentle reminder that even though I cannot see it always, I know it's there and it's a comfort. (Kind of reminds you of something else, doesn't it?)

Daniel's hands told so much about him. Whenever he would get nervous or antsy he would start to curl his fingers up. His battles with eczema would flare up on his fingers and he would absently scratch at them. Whenever we held hands I would always "squeeze, squeeze" and he would squeeze back. That was my signal for "I love you". He could stick his little fingers into any childproof doorknob cover and open it. Most of the adults that came to our house couldn't even work the covers. He could use those hands and work my iPod touch (and throw it in the mop water) or maneuver Ryan's iPhone. He picked up on that so fast. Whenever I was pregnant with Andrew he would take his hands and place them on my belly and talk to "baby Andrew". Whenever he got really animated about something he would raise his hands and shake his head. I find Jake doing the same thing now :)

During our family visitation before the funeral, his hands were one of the last things I looked at before we stepped away. They were laying so peaceful on his lap and he was cradling a tiny cross. I committed those hands to memory because they were so much a part of him. I miss those hands and I miss him so much. I thank God daily for the knowledge that I am saved by Him and because of that love, I can rest assured that one day I will be able to hold those little hands again. And that, dear friends, is a thought that comforts my mother heart.