the measure

You are a man,
       and I know because you held me in your arms as I sobbed out the frightful words, and you pressed your fingers against my shoulderblade to let me know you were listening, and when I later began to repeat the story to you, you looked me in the eyes and told me, I know; I heard every word you said.

You are a man,
       and I know because your eyes filled with pain for my family, for my father; and you nearly wept as you hugged me close and whispered, Hang in there; and you promised to come and repair the stove for us because we don't know what the hell we're doing.

You are a man,
        and I know because you sauntered over, jabbed me softly in the arm, and asked, So when am I taking you to look at cars? and you talked to me like a grown-up, and you let me know you were doing this for me because my father couldn't.

You are a man,
            and I know because you showed up at the hospital when only my parents were there; and sat next to the bed where my father lay, arms full of the needles you so dread, a cup of coughed-up blood on the table next to him; and you chatted with him and my mother like a friend, despite your discomfort; and you later came to our house, to eat up leftovers with me and my sister, just because you knew our tears would never stop if we were left alone; and you didn't ask us how are you doing? a million times.

You are a man,
           and I know because you have been tender and compassionate with my brother, even though everyone else looks at the women in our family and thinks he seems to be doing just fine.

You are a man,
           and I know because you weren't afraid to tell my father that you love him, you didn't hesitate to put your hands on him and pray hard, and you took time from a precious vacation to call and ask how is he?

You are a man,
             and I know because you showed up at our doorstep with a massive crockpot of soup that you, not your wife, had made.

You are a man,
            and I know because when you asked how is he? and I said, I'll cry, you said, okay, and waited.

You are men,
    and I know because you stepped up,
           raised your hands on behalf of your brother,
                  stood firm for his wife and children,
                        did the things he couldn't do but wanted to,
                             defended those whose father and husband was taken out of commission,
                                            and were the face of God to us in so many ways.


May He ever bless the work of your hands, and may He always strengthen your arms for battle.