True Love's Story

Grampa always told me that I should cherish my relationship with people, even when I was young and learning how to make friends. I didn’t understand what he meant back then, but those words always stuck in the back of my head as a constant reminder whenever I met anyone new. It took on a whole new meaning when I first met George, or rather, when I first fell in love with him. It had taken a lot of time, to be sure, but when I was absolutely certain that he was the one for me, we got married. A while later, we had our first child, a girl. The words of my Grampa just faded away, like a long-ago memory. George and I were happy.

This day, I walked into my grandparents’ house seeking refuge, a small-sized suitcase in one hand and my two-year-old daughter’s tiny hand in the other. My perfect marriage seemed to be teetering on the edge of total demolition. I had no idea how, or why, I had allowed things to escalate to that extent, but things had come to a head that afternoon. I felt sorry for myself as I gazed at the worn door of my grandparents’ terrace house. The wood seemed to be corroding – ironically, that was how I saw my marriage at that very moment. Corroding away, and there seemed nothing I could do to preserve it. George and I decided we each needed some space – for the moment.

They welcomed my girl and I with open arms, as always. As Gramma fussed over Natalia, Grampa softly chided me for letting things get out of hand. “I know you didn’t mean for it, Lee-Ann,” he said, “but really. Sometimes you should learn to give way more.” I was an obstinate girl, headstrong and ever so determined to get my way – with my parents, who years ago passed on because of a vehicle accident; my grandparents, my friends, even George, whom I still loved deeply. My heart ached to think that I would not be waking up next to my man for the next day or two, but it made me resolve to clear up the misunderstandings between my husband and I, and put everything back together again.

I watched as my grandparents laughed and joked together. This was the fortieth year of their marriage, and still the seventy-odd year old couple seemed to love each other as if it was the first day of their honeymoon. I was tempted to hate them, dislike them, and shout at them. They had the perfect marriage I was likely never to have. They would never feel this loneliness that I was experiencing. But I couldn’t help but admire them. Their bond was so strong that nothing would tear them apart.

That night, as I tucked Natalia into bed, I thought a lot about what was going on. Gramma came into the room, and placed one of her worn, wrinkled hands on my shoulder. “Your Grampa and I always fought when we were younger,” she whispered. “We’d always make up in the end. Hope it’s that way for you and George too.” She patted my head gently, and left me with tears glistening in my eyes, spilling over onto my cheek. I didn’t think that Gramma or Grampa would understand. For all the years I’ve been on this world, I never saw them fight. They were always so loving. I had hopes and dreams of shaping my own marriage and life after theirs, but now these dreams just seemed like fantasies, unrealistic and impractical. I sat next to Natalia’s bed, the tears just flowing, and I made no move to stop them. Natalia’s hand covered my own, and I looked down at her, forcing a half-smile.

“Momma, don’t cry,” she said. “We’ll see Daddy again.”

How could this young child comprehend what was going on, the turmoil in my own heart? I hugged my girl hard and long. She was all I had left in this world. She stroked my black locks of hair gently, the way she would an injured kitten. All the time she repeated, “Don’t cry, Momma, don’t cry.”

She gave me the strength I needed to face the coming of the next day. I felt a twinge in my heart as I woke up, all alone. The sun was bright and the birds were chirping. Everything seemed to deny the fact that George and I were still apart. Everything was still so… Happy.

Outside, Grampa sat on the porch steps, fiddling with a tiny whistle in his hands. I sat next to him, giving him a reassuring smile as he cocked an eyebrow at me inquisitively. He shrugged, and raised the whistle to his lips. Blowing hard, the high-pitched signal emitted sounded like a birdcall, trilling, bright and brilliant. He handed the wooden contraption to me, and I could see tears shimmering in the corners of his eyes.

“That was your Gramma’s favorite whistle,” he told me. “Every morning she’d sit out here, with a bowl of crumbs and that whistle. And she’d call the birds down for breakfast.”
“Grampa,” I started, but he cut me off.
“Desiree passed on during the night, Lee-Ann.” He sniffed a little. “She’s with your Daddy and Momma now. Her passing was easy, though, and that’s good.” Tears poured from my already-swollen eyes. I had cried so much the past few days that I was amazed I could even cry at all. It hurt so badly. Here was another loved one of mine leaving me. I wanted to scream at God for taking away my Gramma when I needed her most.
“Grampa… I’m so sorry…” I was at a loss for words.
“Don’t worry about it, Lee-Ann.” He smiled, albeit sadly. “You keep that whistle well, girl.”

All I could do was nod.

Later that day, as I made preparations for the wake, I heard Grampa mumbling to himself inside his room. Curious, I peered around the doorway. “Grampa, you feeling all right?” I asked, a little worried. When Grampa turned, the smile on his face was one I had not seen the whole day. It reflected pure happiness and joy.

“I’m all right, girl, just wondering what I should be wearing. Your Gramma tells me it should be the blue suit, she likes that one.” He chuckled at the look on my face. “It’s all right, really, Lee-Ann. I’m not cracking up. Your Gramma, she’s still here, like. I can feel her presence.”

I just nodded slightly. Their love took them beyond the boundaries of death, and I knew it. Again, I wanted to hate them, but just could not. For that moment, I left it as that. I did not want to dwell too much on it, not now, when George was not by my side and Natalia had lost a great-grandmother.

After the wake, as the last of the guests were paying their respects, I stood by the coffin with Grampa, looking down at the pale face of Gramma. Grampa prayed for the safe delivery of Gramma’s soul, and I did likewise, adding a little prayer for my own family. When I was done, Grampa took my hand and led me away from the coffin. Each step we took was agonizing to me, as it meant taking a step away from one whom I held dear.

“You know, Lee-Ann, I loved your Gramma a lot. And I still love her, even after death.” I bowed my head, feeling Natalia slip her little hand into mine. “I know you love George that way too, and I hope that everything will be all right.” There was silence for a moment. I looked up only when Natalia pulled away from me.

“Daddy!” I stared. At the end of the aisle stood George.
“I hope I’m not too late,” he said, lifting Natalia onto his shoulders. I turned to Grampa, who nodded encouragingly.
“Altrum esan,” he said. Cherish him. I smiled, and ran into George’s arms. Everything would be all right again.

My grandparent’s perfect marriage and great love for each other taught me that I should learn to cherish people in order to keep them. That’s what Grampa did, and hey, he still talks to ‘Gramma’ sometimes.