Left Hand Free

“When Jason chose me as his best man, I chuckled before I agreed to do this,” he said after the traditional clinking of the glasses. “I have known Jason since we were five, hiding under the porch steps at his grandparents’ house. We would create all kinds of worlds under there: we were dinosaurs waiting to pounce on an unwelcome visitor. Our hands were Venus Flytraps searching for bugs. In every scenario, however, we were lured out from under the steps by the smell of his grandma’s cooking. Sometimes it was garlic that filled the air, a promise of homemade sauce on a pile of spaghetti. Sometimes it was apples baking in a pie that made our watery mouths more important than continuing with our latest adventure. Sometimes it was as simple as her ringing the bell on the front porch to summon everyone to the table. One thing is for sure: nothing came between family and food at their house, except maybe a story.

“When I returned from college, I would go directly to Jason’s grandma’s house, sitting on the porch for old time’s sake just to listen. I heard his grandpa’s cane create a cadence on the wooden floor. Thump. Slide. Thump. Slide. I heard only one chair slide out at the table, which prompted me to get up and knock on the door. Through the screen door, he saw me and waved me in to join him. He hoisted himself up, embraced me and told me how proud he and his late wife were. He didn’t refer to her in past tense, though, making every reference as a 'we,' like the passing of salt and pepper at the table.

"I told him I had met a girl in college, and he grinned and looked down, poking the floor with the tip of the cane.

“'Well, if you’re interested in some advice, I can tell you a story that my dad told me when I found Flossie.'

“I chuckled and said I’d love to hear his advice since I was thinking about what it would be like to live with someone for over five decades and still smile every time they entered the room.

“'When we are little,' he continued, 'we don’t know it at the time, but we want to feel safe. It’s an odd place to be, wanting the freedom to explore but also wanting to know there is a safety net there just in case. That’s when my dad explained the importance of the left hand.

“'Of course, you know that when you get engaged, you slide the ring on your girl’s left hand. The reason dad gave me was that it was the one closest to the heart. I don’t know about that, but I nodded, anticipating a lesson. Dad often told stories to teach us lessons, and, typically, they were rather drawn out.

"Your grandpa paused to hand me a glass of tea, as though I needed to settle in for this one and plan on staying a while. As it turned out, his lesson was well worth my afternoon, and I nodded at him to continue. This is the story I want to share with you and your beautiful wife today, as it was the best advice I ever received.

“He said, 'in marriage, you never want to leave the left hand free,' as he used his thumb to twirl his well-worn wedding band. “'You see, it’s not a matter of it being the closest to the heart. It’s a matter of safety.

“He went on to explain that as children, we don’t look behind us to see if our mom is close by, we just reach back with our left hand and know her right one will hold it when we are afraid. It didn’t matter if we were crossing a street, meeting a stranger, or walking to school for the first day, her hand always magically appeared in mine at just the right time.

“'As we get older, we start putting our in our pockets. We act like we don’t need a helping hand, and we learn to shrug instead. That shrug never helps us feel safe, though, so when we get older and find someone we love and trust, the first move is to hold their hand.

“'The first time I held Flossie’s hand, mine was soaking wet. I can still feel her hand, you know, like that weight just doesn’t leave just because she passed. It was at a dance, and neither of us knew how to dance, so we sat drinking punch and watching the others dance, and I finally got my nerve up to hold her hand. I never held another one after that, other than ones belonging to my kids and grandkids.

“'Soon, I noticed that she and I were so in sync that each of us would reach out for the others’ hand without needing to look to see if it would be joined by the others. I instinctively put my right hand in her left hand anytime we were strolling, in an uncomfortable situation or just needed reassurance. I never let her left hand empty.

“'As our family grew, there were chubby, damp little hands that trusted ours to fill theirs and we rarely failed to do so. Then came grandchildren and their left hands sought comfort too, so if the groceries were in our right hands, it was understood that they needed to be shifted to free the hand for the touch of safety.

“'It’s always amazed me that wedding photographers take close-ups of the hands, now posed, and adorned with shiny rings. Most people comment on the beauty of the photo and the size of the stone. I learned long ago that beauty fades, that the real magic is in the way the hands touch. The ring is not just a commitment, it’s a promise of safety, a physical reminder that there will never be a time when you will be alone unless you choose to be.

“Your grandpa put into words something that changed the way I look at relationships. I went back to my apartment that day and replayed all the times I had reached back at different stages of my life, not realizing the simple act of touch is the secret sauce. Those who showed up, those who held my hand, are still in my life today, including you, Jason.

"The shapes, textures and colors of the hands that have provided support for me have been varied, but the feeling they gave me when they touched mine created a lineage of safety that has become second nature.

"As you look back at today, Jason and Maria, remember this: never leave the left hand empty. It has a ring on it to remind you, but my guess is that you won’t need that. You have had a long line of men in your family that have shown you how to be a true partner. During all those meals we ate with your grandparents, they never forgot to hold hands during grace. During all the road trips with your parents, they never forgot to hold hands in the car. During your sister’s labor, her husband never let go. Now, you two have the chance to create a future together, so, whatever you do, don’t leave her left hand empty. Congratulations!"