Grandma's hands kept busy. I don't recall an idle moment Kneading dough at 3:00 am for world famous cinnamon rolls, skinning peaches for homemade jam, pulling weeds from the garden, rubbing her remedies for one ailment or another into my skin. It seems so strange now seeing those hands stilled at last, well deserved rest after all the years of toil. Liver spotted, faint marks still visible, scratches of affection made by her two beloved poodles seeking same. Hard and cold where once they'd been soft, warm, gentle, comforting...pale from lack of life sustaining blood. I stood for a long time, just staring at those hands, remembering all they'd done and meant to me, not quite able to believe they could actually stop.