old love

Today I witnessed beauty in it's rawest form.

The sight was tough to take in, nothing pretty to calm the eyes. The smells might have been even worse, and the sounds of arduous breathing are now etched in my memory forever, but the beauty surpassed the circumstances.

Today I picked up my grandpa from his assisted living home and we went for a drive. We talked about my grandma, about her condition. She was checked into the hospital again last week, her 4th visit in the last month. This time, her doctors and nurses seem to think these are her final days, maybe hours. My grandpa is a wonderful and stubborn old man who felt he lost my grandma over a year ago when her alzheimer's dramatically progressed. Saying goodbye to her again was not on his agenda, but it seems it may have been on hers. And he courageously allowed me to take him to her.

When we arrived to her room, I noticed she looked different than she did when I was with her last night. Her head rested further down, her skin was cold, and her breathing sounded more difficult.

As my grandpa entered in the room, he didn't say much. He just went over to her bedside, sat down, and held her hand. Suddenly, her eyes went from glazed over and droopy to wide open. We thought it was my grandpa who might gain some closure today, assuming my grandma checked out a long time ago, or in his words, "she's been on a really long vacation." But it seems she was the one aching for a goodbye. As he held her hand, something happened that none of us were expecting. Her breathing completely changed, and the sounds of short soft sobs made their way out of her heart. It was the most expressive any of us have seen her in over a year, as if she had been waiting for him to say goodbye.

I think all of us have been gradually grieving her death for years now, as her life has progressively been slipping away. I'm sure there is more left to do, but today, despite how sad it was, I found myself insanely privileged to be standing in that room.

I cant even begin to imagine the mystery of what 60 years of life together must feel like, but today, I saw a teeny tiny glimpse.

I heard it said once, love is about holding hands through the easy days and hugging through the tough ones. That it's not always a magical feeling... in fact, rarely is it that way. But that love is a commitment, a friendship, it's self-sacrifice. It's a constant awareness your life does not just belong to you. And it's an enduring joy to have someone there with you to share the ups and downs of life with, someone who is on your team.

When I was a youth leader, we would always tell the students, "If you're not growing, you're dying." And I wonder if the same is true for love. In this case, such old love would be proof of deep growth. Love that has not just survived 60 years, but love that has grown stronger because of it.

That is what I witnessed today: years of ups and downs, good days, bad days, birthdays, holidays, moving days, devastating days, wonderful days, and all the in between days, adding up to years of memories. 60 years of persevering and sharing life together, growing their love into something old and beautiful, culminating in a small, stale hospital room where words didn't need to be exchanged - just a hand to hold while saying goodbye.

Today beauty was stripped of all it's glamor and charm, all it's appeal and magnetism, all it's excitement and promise. What remained was pure and unpretentious and life-changing. And I've never seen love look so beautiful.