[Northkeep] A tearjerker
aoife at cableone.net
aoife at cableone.net
Sun Feb 14 16:37:45 PST 2010
Beautiful!
On Sun Feb 14 23:02 , Lady Catin <lady_catin at yahoo.com> sent:
>Many years ago, my beloved husband sent this to me...and like all of the other
wonderful things he does, it made me cry, and thank the stars that he chose me. I
wanted to share this, and pass along a little "SHMILY" of my own. I love you,
honey. Thank you for being my Valentine. And Happy Valentine's d\Day to all of
our friends.
>
>Kale
>
>My grandparents were married for over half a century, and played their own special
game from the time they had met each other. The goal of their game was to write the
word “shmily” in a surprise place for the other to find. They took turns
leaving “shmily” around the house, and as soon as one of them discovered it, it was
their turn to hide it once more.
>They dragged “shmily” with their fingers through the sugar and flour containers to
await whoever was preparing the next meal. They smeared it in the dew on the
windows over looking the patio where my grandma always fed us warm, homemade
pudding with blue food coloring. “Shmily” was written in the steam left on the
mirror after a hot shower, where it would reappear bath after bath. At one point,
my grandmother even unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper to leave “shmily” on
the very last sheet.
>There was no end to the places “shmily” would pop up. Little notes with “shmily”
scribbled hurriedly were found on dashboards and car seats, or taped to steering
wheels. The notes were stuffed inside shoes and left under pillows. “Shmily” was
written in the dust upon the mantel and traced in the ashes of the fireplace. This
mysterious word was as much a part of my grandparents’ house as the furniture.
>It took me a long time before I was able to fully appreciate my grandparents’
game. Skepticism has kept me from believing in true love – one that is pure and
enduring. However, I never doubted my grandparents’ relationship. They had love
down pat. It was more than their flirtatious little games; it was a way of life.
Their relationship was based on a devotion and passionate affection which not
everyone is lucky enough to experience. Grandma and Grandpa held hands every chance
they could. They stole kisses as they bumped into each other in their tiny kitchen.
They finished each other’s sentences and shared the daily crossword puzzle and word
jumble. My grandma whispered to me about how cute my grandpa was, how handsome and
old he had grown to be. She claimed that she really knew “how to pick ‘em.” Before
every meal they bowed their heads and gave thanks, marveling at their blessings: a
wonderful family, good fortune, and each other.
>But there was a dark cloud in my grandparents’ life: my grandmother had breast
cancer. The disease had first appeared ten years earlier. As always, Grandpa was
with her every step of the way. He comforted her in their yellow room, painted that
way so that she could always be surrounded by sunshine, even when she was too sick
to go out side. Now the cancer was again attacking her body. With the help of a
cane and my grandfather’s steady hand, they went to church every morning. But my
grandmother grew steadily weaker until, finally, she could not leave the house
anymore. For a while, Grandpa would go to church alone, praying to God to watch
over his wife. Then one day, what we all dreaded finally happened. Grandma was
gone.
>“Shmily.” It was scrawled in yellow on the pink ribbons of my grandmother’s
funeral bouquet. As the crowd thinned and the last mourners turned to leave, my
aunts, uncles, cousins and other family members came forward and gathered around
Grandma one last time.
>Grandpa stepped up to my grandmother’s casket and, taking a shaky breath, he began
to sing to her. Through his tears and grief, the song came, a deep and throaty
lullaby. Shaking with my own sorrow, I will never forget that moment. For I knew
that, although I couldn’t begin to fathom the depth of their love, I had been
privileged to witness its unmatched beauty.
>S-h-m-i-l-y: See How Much I Love You.
>Thank you, Grandma and Grandpa, for letting me see.
>
> In ancient times, cats were worshiped as gods. They have never forgotten this. -
Terry Pratchett
>
>
>
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