The Support System
Last night, my husband and I returned from visiting his grandfather who is recovering from a severe stroke. Over the weekend, watching the love his grandparents exchanged, I was reminded of an article I wrote in 2007 about Randy’s other grandparents whose marriage was so filled with unconditional, unshakable love that even death could not diminish it.
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In Lancaster, Pennsylvania my boyfriend’s grandfather has just passed away. We have known for over a month that his dying was inevitable, but even with this preparing knowledge his wife of 54 years grieves.
Only a day after his death she began packing up his winter wear: thick woolen jackets he took on his hunting trips to Wisconsin, lined pants he used while working on the farm, flannel shirts made thin by time–all remnants of a life he no longer lived.
As she carefully folded his clothing and gave it to their sons, she told her family she longed to speak to her husband about his own death, about how hard it was for her to let him go. After all the years they had spent together, she still desired to share every detail of their entwined lives. How, with one breath, could it stop now?
A week before he died, they had sat next to each other in silence, their hands clasped, as their imminent separation weighed heavily on their minds.
“What are you thinking about?” she had asked, watching him stare out the window.
Tears flooded his eyes as he turned to her and simply said, “You.”
I find myself amazed by the level of their love. In our culture, many husbands and wives cannot live with each other much less grieve over the concept of living without each other. The divorce statistics alone tell us that something has been lost by our generation. How can we possibly get it back? What are the secrets the other generations shared that nourished their love into something that for richer or poorer, sickness or health could not diminish?
Centered in my parents’ backyard is a tree whose beauty grows more intricate with every passing year. One day, stepping closer, my mother realized that the one tree was actually woven together by two bases. They had become so entwined that you could not tell one from the other. Together, those trees have withstood hailstorms and tornadoes, ice storms and torrential rains. Through their linked support system they have been able to withstand the ravages of time.
I believe my boyfriend’s grandparents’ 54 year marriage was built upon the analogy of that tree. They too had interwoven their support system until you could not distinguish one person from the other. Despite the many trials and tribulations that buffeted against their lives, they stood firm, knowing they had been placed next to each other for a purpose.
Like the farmers they were, they were careful to nourish the soil surrounding their love in laughter as well as tears. Sometimes the husband knew that he would have to be the one supporting her, and that in a moment his time would come to be supported. In this beautiful exchange of trust and companionship, they had pressed into their hearts the shape of their love so its form could not float from their memories.