Grandad's hands

I don't know about you, but sometimes I see a person who resembles somebody that I've known, loved and cherished.

Today and yesterday myself and a group of work colleagues were in Wellington on business. This afternoon we sat in our hotel (having a coffee and discussing the days antics), waiting for the van to drop us all at the airport to come home.

There was an elderly gentleman on my left who must've been in his eighties, sitting quietly, drinking a tomato juice. It's funny what hits you between the eyes sometimes, but I looked at his hands... He had these handsome long fingers, which had probably seen many a day of hard work - the skin covering his bones was paper thin, and it reminded me of my Grandad's hands. Those precious hands that I had held so many times whilst caring for him at my parents and aunties place, and more recently, during the final weeks of his life-well-lived.

It reminds me to cherish those that we love. Take the time to compliment people, smile at toddlers and mothers, and don't ever be afraid to hold the hands of the elderly. To be a comfort to those heroes whose wives and friends have long past.  Those are the moments that count.

This is a simple post - one without pictures and frilly bits - but one with much respect and honour for our heroes who have passed. 

Grandad, I love you...I miss you everyday. xx