His palms were like paper; dry, leaf-like, almost translucent. I feared holding them. They felt so brittle under my touch. Like the bones of a tiny bird under its thin coat of feathers. I thought they would snap, just trying to be. Even so, I kept holding them like they were a precious childhood trinket. Afraid of letting them slip through the gaps between my fingers. I held them as gently as I could, humbled by how youthfully cavalier my fingers felt, wrapped around them. Not unlike the emotions you experience while handling an old book; it’s yellowing sweet-smelling paper, threatening to crumble at the slightest application of accidental force. But you want to preserve it. You want to hold on to it forever and so you protect it with everything you have.
He would never let me hold them if he were aware, I thought. Always the proud warrior, the unrelenting fighter; he would pull them back indignantly and look at me with undisguised annoyance; as if to challenge the motive behind my sentiment. His eyebrows raised just enough to question me and make me retreat to a corner with an embarrassed, sheepish smile.
I ran my index finger softly over the veins bulging out through the thin tanned skin on his forearm. The nail is filed short. As are all my other fingernails. We have to take every precaution in order to provide him with the cleanest environment possible. It reminded me of when my baby brother was born fourteen years ago and I had a cold. Every time the doctor came in to check on either the baby or the mother, I held my breath in fear. I was scared that I would sneeze, or cough and let away my carefully guarded secret. I wanted to be there so bad, in that moment, peering down the grills of the hospital crib at the tiny creature below. To reach down and touch its melting-butter skin and that tiny stubbed nose; I had to be careful. Oh so careful.
I reached down to brush my palm against the rough stubble of his cheek. He subconsciously twitched towards my touch and then his face relaxed again. Here was the man who had been a hero to two generations in our family. Here was the man larger than life, full of ideas and thoughts and opinions. Here was the man who never shied off expressing his views and argued till the end. Here was the man who dissolved into thought while we talked to him and whose smile upon being caught betrayed his age. Here was the man who could outrun all of us and push us for more. Here was the man whose approval and appreciation was paramount. Here was the majestic presence, lying frail and unaware. Restive but not resigned.
I love you. You will forever be my hero.
