Just Hold My Hand ...

A picture is worth a thousand words. A thousand thoughts. A thousand emotions.

Seven years ago today.

A silent 60-minute car ride from a hospital to a care facility. Her new home. Not her choice but one that was made for her.

I held her hand as she held a tissue in the other while tears leaked from our eyes and clogged our throats. Her head turned towards the window with no doubt a million thoughts flooding her mind. No words were said other than occassional murmurs of assurance that it was going to be ok. I'm not sure who the words were really for ... maybe all of us.

Seven years in a place that eventually became her home.

Until it wasn't.

This week, a friend asked me how I was doing since my mom's death earlier this year. I recalled our last hand-holding moment as another homecoming was anticipated. Quiet words of assurance spoken ... it's going to be ok. We are going to be ok.

A thousand words. A thousand thoughts. A thousand emotions.
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She is home. And I'm ok with that.