November 1, 2009

Sixty-seven years ago today, my grandmother and grandfather were married. Sixty-seven. But neither of them lived to see that number. My grandfather, who was an elder in the church and a WWII veteran, died in 1976. He was employed by the postal service, and had a heart attack while on his daily mail route. I know him only through stories that my grandmother told. I might share a few here someday.

I also want to share the story of my grandparents' courtship. But not today.

Today I want to tell of the time when I was 19 that my grandmother, just out of the blue, said, "Today is my anniversary." I wasn't sure I heard her correctly.

"Pardon?"

She repeated, "Today is mine and Jimmy's anniversary. If he had lived, we'd be married fifty years today."

And in that moment, I saw a more vast array of emotions from my grandma than I'd ever seen. Sadness. Pride. Acceptance. Strength. And possibly a bit of regret. I think what struck me the most that day, and has stayed with me since, is that, even though they'd been separated for sixteen years, she still thought of him daily. Thought daily of her vow to him. Knowing that he still held such a place in her heart, I imagine she even wondered how her life would've been different had he lived.

And this great woman who was my grandma... not once did I hear her complain about how hard her life was because he was gone. Not once.