My cousin’s knuckles say “Hold Fast.”
I haven’t seen him in 15 years, and if we ran into each
other on the street I would be surprised if we knew the other’s face. But my
mom told me about his knuckles. When my grandma was dying and things seemed to
be spiraling out of control, she would tell me “Hold Fast.”
Hold fast to Truth.
Hold fast to Love.
Hold fast to Hope.
Hold fast to Family.
And hold fast to your God.
I would remind myself of this daily. I still do. I think of
my mom. I think of my grandma. I think of my family and how a tragedy brought
us closer. I think of how we always get our answers in the moments when we are completely
lost and confused. I think of those rugged hands and tattooed knuckles I’ve
only seen in pictures.
And I hold fast.
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