[nukkad] "SHMILY"

["Ragini" <>]

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 Hi,
 Please feel this story.
Ragini    
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  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 over looking 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.  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 fortune, and each
  other.

  But there was a dark cloud in my grandparents' life:
  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 that she
  could always be surrounded by sunshine, even when she
  was too sick to go out side.  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.
    --By Laura Jeanne Allen


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