Mother's Hands

Mother's Hands

Dear gentle hands have stroked my hair and cooled my brow, soft hands that pressed me close and seemed to know somehow those fleeting moods and erring thoughts that cloud my day, which quickly melt beneath their suffrage and pass away.

No other balm for earthly pain is half so sure, no sweet caress so filled with love nor half so pure, no other soul so close akin that understands, no touch that brings such perfect peace as Mother's hands.

W. Dayton Wedgefarth

Hermione slowly walked to the balcony of her parent's home. She felt dazed and confused. She needed to cry, but she had to keep her head clear. She had to make difficult decisions. She was exhausted. She heard footsteps. She turned and saw it was Ron. In this difficult part of life, he had been her champion, her comforter. He said very little. He chose to listen instead. He let her talk when she needed to.

He put his arms around her. She felt his strength and oh she needed it. She fell into his arms. She turned her head and rested her cheek on his chest. The tears began to flow. Like a flood they came. Ron held her tighter and whispered in her ear to let it go, to cry her heart out. He told her he was there for her. She turned her head up and gave him a light kiss. She lowered her head again on his chest and the tears came in full measure.

She always tried to prepare for this moment and yet when it arrived, she was not prepared. When the message arrived it put her in two moods. One was a tailspin and the other total numbness. It was like spinning and sitting still at the same time. She contacted Ron and asked him to come home from work. Without question he dropped everything and went home. The love of his life had a problem and nothing else mattered. When he came home and saw Hermione, he knew something was terribly wrong.

After conversation Hermione asked Ron if they could cuddle. Ron said yes quickly. It was one of his favorite situations with his bride. As they settled on the sofa, Hermione began to call up her memories. The one she cherished the most was the one that Ron was most familiar with. When she was a young girl she loved to lay her head on her mother's lap. Her mother would caress her hair with her hand. It made her feel safe and secure. Now that security was gone. Fear settled in and then the tears began to flow again. She felt like she was alone.

Her father was shaken to the core. He had his wits about him, but he couldn't think straight. Hermione was trying to put everything together. She was finding it difficult. As time moved on, Harry, and Ginny arrived. Later Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were about. All were willing to take things in hand and let Hermione and her father spend needed time together.

At the funeral Hermione and Ron sat with her father. She had rarely seen him cry, he was so upbeat and jolly. Today there was a river of tears. Hermione held him and they both cried together. Many people spoke about her, for she was well loved. She was cremated. The urn was put on a beautiful setting. There was a luncheon after. The hall was full. Many came to Hermione and her father to express their sadness at their loss.

When all passed, Hermione, her dad, and Ron returned to the Granger home. All the rest of the family followed. The Weasleys, Harry and Ginny all decided to spend one more night to offer encouragement to Hermione and Mr. Granger. They offered to stay on a few more days to offer their support. Mr. Granger declined and assured them he would be okay. Hermione wanted to stay longer, but again her father assured her all would be well.

The morning arrived and the Granger home was a hub-bub of activity. Breakfast was made, the dishes washed, dried and put away. Packing was done. All ready to go. Hermione's father watched every one running about. Organized chaos he thought. Hermione was still reluctant to leave. Ron backed her all the way. Still her father insisted all would be fine.

The moment came. The others had left long before. Hermione and Ron were left. Hugs and kisses. Ron and Hermione closed the door and left. When the door closed, reality set in. There was no energy about him. It was only the loud sound of quiet. It was lonely. It was claustrophobic. He desperately wanted to ask his wife to make some tea. She wasn't there. Tears formed, but he fought them back. He was alone and he would have to make the best of it. As the hours passed he longed to hear the sound of a loved one.

In his panic he thought of asking his daughter to come back. He again fought it. She had her life with Ron and should not be burdened with him. He got up and went to his bedroom. Before entering, he glanced at Hermione's bedroom. She still had many of her growing up items there. He smiled and truly wished she was still there. For a moment he flashed back to fond memories of her. He snapped out of it. He left the door open so he wouldn't close his daughter's presence out.

He went in to his bedroom and sat on the end of the bed. He had given Mrs. Granger's clothes to the needy centers. He started to feel the iron grip of loneliness coming back. He placed his head in his hands and looked down at the floor. It was then that he saw it. He picked it up and stared at it. His face was distorted with a spasm of despair. It was one of his wife's house shoes. It was left behind. He clutched the shoe to his breast and began to weep uncontrollably.

Dedicated to Emma.