The last time I saw my grandparents dance together was at their 75th wedding anniversary party. They were both in their nineties and though their minds were still sharp their bodies were not what they had once been.
Flip through the pages here and you’ll find posts where I shared how my grandfather would tell me how he never saw a 90 something year-old woman sitting next to him because all he could see was the girl that he fell in love with.
They were together for so many years that it seemed inconceivable that there might come a time when they would be separated, yet it happened. Grandma died and left grandpa alone.
He wasn’t angry with her for dying, but he missed her terribly and I am convinced that he died of a broken heart. It took 18 months, but that is what killed him. Her absence.
Not a day went by where he didn’t talk to her or think about her, but it wasn’t the same.
When I think about that final dance I can’t help but smile. All six of their great grandchildren were there. I heard my son and my oldest nephew groan when they kissed and laughed when they swore they would never have girlfriends or get married.
For a brief moment they convinced their legs to hold firm and their backs straight and I remembered them dancing at my Bar Mitzvah and other family functions.
Life is filled with all sorts of different moments. I am doing my best to recognize them when they come and to appreciate them while they are happening.
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