For someone so accustomed to creating visual mementos for every milestone, for each venture into new, for every unfolding journey, I did not know how to capture this.  This was not familiar, though the instinct was unchanged.  I wanted to remember.

Tonight, my dad passed into forever… and into the loving arms of the creator God.  We gain confidence in the truth of Jesus’ words as he comforted the mourning Martha: “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” (John 11:25-26)

As I observed through the vigil, it was the hands I noticed.  Always the hands, sometimes alone, often embraced.  Wife, child, friend.  An unyielding grasp, a gentle stroke.  Patient, anticipating.

These told the story.