shmily
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 overlooking 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 to experience.
Grandma
and Grandpa held hands every chance they could.,br> 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' lives: 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 she could always be
surrounded by sunshine, even when she was too sick to go outside.
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.
~
Richard ~
This
left tears in my eyes a lump in my throat and a heavy heart but
it also left a soft smile on my mouth My prayer is that everyone
could have such a love I know that it is something that I long
for so deeply and sincerely And I also know that it is brought to
two people through the love of God
RICHARD
!
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