A couple months ago I did a documentary session with this amazing 97-year young original member of The Women’s Army Corp. It was amazing to hear her stories, especially the time she had to fly in a bomber to deliver it to England during WWII. Though she was up there in age her spirit was quite young as we talked about getting drunker than a skunk on her 100th birthday. She always loved a good party. She also warned me she’d come back to haunt me and laugh at me when I hit her age. “These old bones just don’t want to move these days.”, she jokes as we talk about getting all bendy and twisty doing yoga. In the mere 30 minutes that I had met and talked with her, I knew she wasn’t kidding.
As she held her granddaughter’s hands, I couldn’t resist the urge to take a photo of them. Hands fascinate me. They hold the untold stories of their lives. The work they did, the hobbies they enjoyed, the hugs that they’ve given, the tears that have been wiped. I thought of this image a lot during my days at the hospital with my own Grandfather, also an Army man. Every day that I held his hands in mine, massaging the tops of them, feeling the softness between each wrinkle of time that was so visible. I wished I had an image like this of ours. I know his stories and his hands told them all, as Marcy’s hands did hers.
Three times yesterday I had attempted to share the image of her hands on Social Media to talk a little about the stories of hands. But the constant distractions kept pulling me away. Until last night when I spoke with Caroline, Marcy’s Grandaughter, only to learn, Marcy had passed away. Six days before my Grandfather did. My heart sank.
Marcy had that spark that many of us dream of having when we reach that stage of life. She loved the days of Big Band dance halls and dancing her heart out as she told me about the one in Rowayton, CT. Her dance card was ALWAYS full. The more she talked the more I could relate to the things that brought her joy, her love for the Army as a woman of war. As I ask her about her favorite time of her life, I could see the corners of her mouth turn upwards as her eyes became brighter, she’d smile and say, “Definitely when I was in the Army.”
Marcy…. I hope to live life even half as full as you did! Thank you for being my fan for so many years and for giving me an opportunity to become yours in the end.
A fearless woman and a life well lived.
Aug 25, 1920- Oct 19,2017