Hands: Photographing Symbols

She still wears her ring.

 

13 years ago this December, my Dad lost his battle with cancer. When he was diagnosed, he asked for only two things – to see my sister get married and to celebrate his 50^th wedding anniversary. He accomplished those two things and just a short month later he was gone. A Dad who would leave funny messages in which he meowed liked a cat or sounded like an elderly Vietnamese lady (we’re Hispanic), a Dad who would stealthily leave a box of mangos because he knew his daughters loved them, but take off before we could open the door to thank him and invite him in, a Dad who couldn’t say I love you and instead said “Me too,” a Dad who always gave us a single rose at Valentine’s day.

 

Soul mates and pioneers who raised a family in a strange, new land, my 87 year old mom now tries to stay busy (so she won’t have time to “think”) and waits to join the love of her life.

 

July 12^th would have been his 90^th birthday and his loss is still so painfully palpable every… single… day.

 

So, she still wears her ring. And, his.