[MOL] A beautiful story [01836] Medicine On Line


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[MOL] A beautiful story



>     Here's a beautiful story.   What a legacy you can leave on...
>
>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.
>
>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. 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.
>
>
>I hope you loved this as much as I did.