SHMILY

SHMILY 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 drew "shmily" with their fingers in the dew on the windows or in the steam left on the mirror after a hot shower, where it would reappear bath after bath. Once 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" were stuffed inside shoes and left under pillows. 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. However, I never doubted my grand-parents' relationship. Grandpa and grandma held hands every chance they could. My grandma whispered me about how cute my grandpa was, how handsome an old man he had grown to be. Before every meal they bowed heads and gave thanks: for a wonderful family, good fortune, and each other. But there was a dark cloud in their life: my grand-mother had breast cancer. This 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 colour so she could always be surrounded by sunshine, even when she was too sick to go outside. Now the cancer was once again attacking her body. My grandma 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, all our family members gathered around grandma one last time. Grandpa stepped up and began to sing to her. Through his tears and grief, the song came a nice and tender lullaby. I will never forget that moment. S-H-M-I-L-Y. See How Much I Love You. Thank you, grandpa and grandma, for letting me see. Прочитайте этот текст. Приглашать сюда всех, кого любите и пишите SHMILY на их стенах.