Sukhdeo-hands

These are Sukhdeo-hands.

By that, I mean they look exactly like my father's (whose hands look exactly like this older brother's, whose hands look identical to their fathers).

I've always been proud of my hands and feet. Not because they are particularly beautiful (because they aren't), but because they look just like my Dhadha's (that's grandfather for you white folks).

If the world got mixed up somehow, it would be easy to regroup us Sukhdeos -- same hands, same feet, same silly button noses. We all look like my Dhadha. We'd be herded like sheep straight back to him because, sooner rather than later, someone would figure out we were his people.

And I'm so proud to be his. He's a man who has never said a bad word about anyone else. He's patient. He's calm. [Gandhi's got nothing on my grandfather - seriously.] I've never heard him raise his voice. Not once.

His broad hands built the home we all lived in at some point. They welcomed two daughters-in-law (my mom among them) and a son-in-law into his family. They held grandchildren. We, his six grandchildren, held tightly to those hands as we crossed streets, on our way to the corner shop for bubblegum and drinking yoghurts (from a carton, thank you very much).

This weekend was bitter-sweet for me. While I spent it exploring the Cape with friends (and an especially special friend who was visiting from Sweden), my beloved grandfather took ill in Durban. My parents rushed from Johannesburg to Durban to be with him and assured me they would let me know if I should do the same. He's doing better now; my parents are back home but we'd still appreciate your prayers.

In true Dhadha style, when he spoke to me from his hospital bed this weekend (he's also back home now, thankfully), he assured me he was quite alright and wished everyone would stop making a fuss. I reminded him he'd promised to visit me in Cape Town this year. I'm holding him to it.

Between the rain and wind this weekend, we got a few moments of glorious yellow sunshine (and Boyfriend and I even managed to hop around in a field of chamomile).

Small reminders that God is good and faithful to us.