Recently, I was able to spend a few days with my grandparent's at my folk's house. Grandma is 90 years old, and Grandpa is going to be 95 this year. In July of this year, they will celebrate 75 years of marriage. Each are devoted to the other.When I married, I wanted a marriage like my parents. My parents wanted a marriage with devotion like their parents had. We all were lucky, no - blessed is the better word, to have found devotion. What kind of devotion did we want?
The kind that makes my grandpa, though frail and a bit unsteady on his feet, give his wife her daily shots. The kind of devotion that has him helping her with her stockings at night. The devotion that has my grandma wanting my grandpa served first. The devotion that still enters my grandma's voice when she talks about what my grandpa does for her. The devotion based on a belief in God and the sanctity of marriage.
I heard the steely determination in my grandpa's voice when he spoke of helping my grandma for as long as he could. I had asked him if there was help for him when he needed to give her her shots, or take her blood pressure. He told me, "I will do this myself for her as long as I can." He was firm and unflinching, and I was humbled by his love for her.
My grandparents don't use flowery language with each other. There are no grand displays of affection, no sweet nicknames for them - just "Mother" and "Dad." But their actions speak volumes. My family has been blessed with their example.
And while I wasn't blessed with 75 years of marriage, I was blessed for 17 1/2 years with a man who was like my grandfather in his devotion to his family. I hope I was like my grandma in my devotion to him.
