Cold Hands
He remembered the first time he held her hands. It was because her hands were cold. Now that he thought about it, her hands were always cold, weren't they? The only time her hands were warm, were when they were in his.
He remembered that the first time he told her that he loved her, he had been warming her hands. They had been sitting on a park bench and it was winter. Oddly enough though, even though she was trying to get her hands warm, she hated gloves and mittens. So there he was, and there she was, looking so pretty that it just slipped out. For a second she had looked so surprised that it almost made him laugh, and then she looked so happy that he had to say it again. That was a long time ago.
He remembered, that right before he proposed he had been warming her hands. He actually hadn't planned on proposing then. He had just bought the ring that day. When he let go of her hands, she pouted and he laughed and got down on one knee. She quit whining then. She also said yes.
He remembered, that when they got married, she had wanted him to hold her hands through the entire ceremony. He didn't though and now he wishes he had.
He remembered that when she gave birth to their first child, she was screaming for ice chips because she was on fire and begging for him to hold her hands because they were freezing.
He remembered the night she stormed out of the house, furious at him for something he said and how he ran after her. When he finally caught up with her, she wouldn't look at him, so he grabbed her cold hands and said all the things he meant to say.
He remembered, that when she had a miscarriage it wasn't just her hands that were cold, her heart was too. So all through the night he held her while she cried.
He remembered that when they took their second child to her first day of school and they slowly walked away from the classroom, cold hand in warm hand. She was worried the whole time and tried to go back in there to take her home several times and he almost let her. Almost.
He remembered, that when all their children had graduated and left for college, she came up to him and told him that because the house was so empty, it was cold. And because the house was cold she was cold. And because she was cold, that meant her hands were even colder. So would he PLEASE warm up her hands? He just chuckled and grabbed her hands. They headed out to the porch and sat there talking in the warm summer sun as it slowly went down.
He remembered that when their grandchildren came over, the oldest one, around seven, wanted to know if his gramma's hands were ever warm. She just shook her head, smiled and told him that was what she had grampa for. Then she grabbed his hands and held them tight.
He remembered it all. Every single time. From the first to today. Yes. He had been right. Her hands were always cold. And he had always been able to warm them. So why weren't they warm now, when he was holding them so tight? What was different this time? He already knew the answer. He just had to look at her to know. He wouldn't ever be able to warm them again, as hard as he tried. Her hands would always be cold now, and nothing would change that, but it was a different kind of cold. Before even if they never held heat, they at least felt alive. Now they just felt dead. She was dead. He hoped that the angels in heaven would be able to warm her hands until he got there.