Shorthand

I think a lot about hands.  My hands, which are rough and have gnawed cuticles and discolored nails. Gary's hands, large and strong and calloused. My DM's equipment drivers' hands which are older than mine and smaller than Gary's but are there to reach out for me and my own hands to connect us in an effort to understand me.

I was going back and reading some of the early blogposts on this blog.  Postings that hurt to read even now.  If I had to read them out loud to someone, I would not be able to do so without breaking down crying.

The angst with which I've written some of the blogposts were about my feelings as being the victim of the unfairness of Gary's death.  The unfairness of being left alone and not having any say in the matter.  The feeling of alone-ness that no one ever expects or asks for.

My DM is an unwitting victim of some of these same feelings and emotions.  He tells me what he can handle telling me.  I use my hands to hug him, touch his face and hold his hands as we sit on the couch and lean on each other.

But am I really lending him a much needed 'helping hand'?  Am I giving him a 'hand up'?
Not always, and that's really too bad.  He needs it and deserves it.

I may be farther away from my encounter with devastation, but still I should remember how it feels to be left in the ditch feeling like an abandoned puppy.  I SHOULD remember how I felt when I was the one who was promised that I'd be called and 'taken care of' by old friends who melted away in the shadows.  Yet, here I am, the one person who should empathize with DM's burdens and I'm still all wrapped up in my feelings for him and what HE can do for ME!  What the....?

My hands have done a lot of caregiving: first for little boys and then for Gary.  My hands have done a lot of typing on this blog for myself in effort to make it through my dark days.  Now my hands need to get busy and offer assistance and whatever else they can to someone who needs them and can benefit from my experiences with grief.  Paybacks don't have to be a bitch when its for someone you love and whom you love back.  Time to be handy for someone else.