![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serafaeryI remember when my grandmother was slowly fading in her memory care home, that her hands got curled and cramped and clutched permanently, and I thought to myself, in my early 20s, how do I not let my hands end up like that. I consciously uncurl my hands whenever I notice my wrists turning in, especially when I am falling asleep at night.
My mother's hands do this, now. As she slowly fades, in her memory care hospice home. I'm less afraid of it. I still work to uncurl my hands, when I think of it. But I know, deep down, that my hands will be like that one day, too. It matters less. Some day it won't matter at all.
My mother's hands do this, now. As she slowly fades, in her memory care hospice home. I'm less afraid of it. I still work to uncurl my hands, when I think of it. But I know, deep down, that my hands will be like that one day, too. It matters less. Some day it won't matter at all.
