Sunday, June 15, 2014

Father's Day

The original Owl with the original Motif #1 in the background.
Rockport, MA ~ September 1966

I was always fascinated by my father's large, square Irish hands. Hands that made sure our home was always safe and secure; hands that drove big rig trucks on highways; hands that could make a drum set sing; hands that guided me down the aisle on a beautiful May day; hands that reached out to touch his newborn grandchildren; hands that held mine when sorrow touched our family.

I was particularly struck and saddened the day I first noticed these hands looking old. Recently, I read a book that, while not noteworthy for anything else, did have a passage that brought back so many memories and thoughts of my father, John Murphy. 

Age had compacted him, making his work-scarred hands and thick knuckles look too large for his wiry frame. When she was young, she used to believe he could hold up the sky with those hands.
~Elizabeth Lowell, Night Diver 


Linda said...

Oh Marcia - this made me cry...
Thank you for sharing a bit of your father with us! What a lovely man!


Les said...

Wonderful quote, as always.

Several years ago, I took a photo of my dad's hands as he squeezed a lemon into his beer. It's one of my favorite pictures.

Nan said...

A very touching post. Thank you for it. Reminds me a bit of the Bonnie Raitt song about she seeing her folks getting old and they seeing her getting old and 'it makes us both feel strange.'