Healing Hands

I remember the first time Dietrich held my hand. Just minutes after seeing me, he took both my hands into his, and said he liked me.

The second time he took my hand was a few days after our Holy Marriage Blessing, when I visited him in Barrytown. We went for a walk somewhere beautiful together with his friend, Dr. Masuda, and his new wife. Both couples were holding hands. I recall the nature being more beautiful than usual. The deer were greeting us. To walk hand in hand with my new husband was a heavenly experience; so much electricity and love was passing through our touch. Throughout our life we always held hands.

I also remember when I was in the midst of trouble, hardship, sorrow, confusion, in the midst of tears, just to know his hand was near, and I could reach out to him, gave me courage to go on. Without his hand nearby I could not persevere.

I remember sometimes feeling exhausted at night, refusing to stand another 5 minutes, or refusing to get up in the early morning. But hearing his voice praying to heaven, I felt so comforted and secure. It was music to my ears. Then I would ask him to massage me back to life. His touch transformed my depleted energy into new hope and new life. Hands have healing energy.

When my mother was spending her last days on earth at the retirement home in our hometown, my family took turns to be with her so that she was never alone. She was very scared of dying, because during her life she did not take the opportunity to love God, did not want to, or could not do it because she had endured so much pain and difficult circumstances. But somehow, she loved her son-in-law like her own son. So, Dietrich was assigned to be with her at night.

She wanted to hold hands during the day with my brother or me, her daughter. She held our hands very tenaciously. Even when she could not talk or drink anymore, holding on to our hands was the last sign of life. At night my husband would hold her hands with gratitude and deep love for his mother-in-law. He would sing lullabies to her.

When I remember the scene of my mom dying and Dietrich holding her hands singing lullabies from his sleeping bag on the floor next to her, tears roll down my cheeks. It was really comforting and beautiful. God must have been comforted by this scene as well.

Before Dietrich passed, he was in the ICU intubated because he could not breathe anymore. The doctors had to trap his hands in what looked like handcuffs so that he would not take the tube out of his mouth. The moment I came to visit I would liberate him and hold his depleted hands. And when it was his time to go, the night before our daughter Diesa, holding his hand, asked him to wait a little longer until we all came again to say good bye.

The hands of blessed couples receive the divine power of Heavenly Parent. Now that Dietrich is not here, how I long to hold his hand again.

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