Читать книгу Hope’s Daughters - R. Wayne Willis - Страница 44

This love story is true. It is not about young, sexy, tabloid love, but about the “for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health” kind. It is of the marathon, not the sprint, variety

Not that their love story lacked hot-blooded passion. Letters to and from the Pacific theater in World War II yield tender, affectionate pledges of undying devotion. Black and white photos dating back to the early 1940s document hugs and kisses. Several pictures are reminiscent of that iconic shot on Life magazine’s cover of the nurse being bent over and kissed by the sailor celebrating V-J Day on August 14, 1945, in Times Square.

Fast-forward seventy years. One marriage, two children, five grandchildren, and six great grandchildren later, health issues have necessitated their move into an assisted living home.

The sailor boy died on February 2. On February 4, which would have been their seventieth anniversary, he was laid to rest with military honors.

In removing his things from their room, one of their children came across a sealed, bright-yellow envelope with “To Charlie” scrawled on it. Opening it, they discovered a crudely made card that looks like a piece of red, pink, yellow, and white-striped wallpaper folded in half, with little hearts and kisses glued on the front. On the inside, with a cupid and a heart glued alongside, was scribbled a message and signature: “Happy Valentine’s Day! With All My Love, Grace.”

Barely able to walk with a walker, unable to leave the facility that had no gift shop, Grace used materials from the art and craft room to construct a from-the-heart gift for her valentine, knowing it might be their last Valentine’s Day together, and it was.

Charlie was a world-class grandfather to our three sons. And I could not have had a better father-in-law.