True Love Stories: Remembering the embrace of Grandpa’s perfect love
When you think love, you think flowers and chocolates and hearts. But a love story is not just the blossoms of young love or the fine wine of aged hearts. Sometimes the best love story is that of a familial bond – for 19 years, 11 months and 28 days, I had the best of love stories.
There’s a Welsh proverb that says, “Sometimes perfect love does not come until the first grandchild.” For us, I know that’s true. Because when I think love, I think of walking by your side through the mountains behind your house at 10 Crossett Lane and knowing I could never get lost because I was with you. I think of the first time I felt like a big girl because I learned how to do the laundry, so you asked me to teach you. I think of my utmost cherished Christmas kitty, which you’d never cop to. I think of Faith Hill. I think of our song. I think of holding your hand for two weeks straight. And I think of how much I never thought I could miss someone more. You were the man behind the curtain – silent, but ever present, always there to make sure my lines went off without a hitch.
On Feb. 14, I’ll bring flowers and eat chocolate hearts and remember that my sweet tooth came from you. But most of all, on Valentine’s Day, when I think love, I’ll think of you.
And Grandpa, wherever you are today, I hope you think of me, too.