A Hand to Hold
One of the most challenging things in this life as a mother is seeing my two little ones miss their daddy. Equally challenging as a wife, is hearing in my husband’s voice how much he misses his children.
When C deployed this last time our oldest was two and our youngest was 5 months old. I knew how much our little ones were going to grow during that twelve months. I knew that C would miss them in every moment.
Every care package I sent was always quickly and easily identifiable. The people who handled the mail in Kandahar knew when C got a box from home. Every single one was covered in hand and foot prints of every color and size. They grew through the deployment. There were no empty spaces, just color upon color upon color of bigger hands and smaller toes. The boys loved making them; I loved making them.
But in C’s pocket – the one over his heart – he carried their handprints with him. Days before he left I stamped their prints and cut them out and had them laminated. They were with him every moment of the deployment.
He still carries them.
On the back of each is the name and age of each of our children. Below that is the following poem:
Some days we aren’t together;
Sometimes we are apart,
So here’s a hand to hold onto
Keep it in the pocket near your heart.
Know I miss you, daddy,
And I’m so very proud of you.
When you miss me, hold my hand
And I’ll be holding your hand, too.
What a simple and special thing to do this Fathers’ day!