| My grandparents wre 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 spurprise 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 the blue food colouring. "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 fotune, and each other. But there was a dark cloud in my grandparents life: my grandmother had breast cance. The The disease had first appeared ten years earlier. As always, Granpa 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 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 any- more. For awhile, Grandpa went to church alone praying for God to watch over his wife. Then one day, what we all dreaded finally happened. Grandma was gone. "SHIMLY"...There it was again--scrawled in bright yellow ink of the pink ribbons of my grandmothers 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 very softly. Through his tears and grief, the old song came, a deep 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 priviledge to witness its unmatched beauty. S-H-M-I-L-Y......See How Much I Love You! So, I am asking you to pass this on to some of your friends and tell them how much you love them, for ther many not be another day that you will talk to them. author unknown |
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