Love after life

My grandparents met when they were 11 years old. They lived in the same Brooklyn neighborhood. They were friends. As a teenager, my grandmother - being the beautiful woman that she has always been - was a sought-after lady! She still hung out with my grandpa - and kissed him at the door when he would leave but she dated other boys as well. He loved her. He always loved her.

And he waited for her... by that door side...

One day, he tells her - he is done waiting. He either gets her as his girl - or he is out of there.

She makes the right decision, obviously.

My grandparents were married for 70 + years. 70! Can you imagine that? Three daughters, seven grandchildren, eight great-grandchildren.

Grandma Eve was an identical twin. When the baby girls were born - she was the smaller of the two and they did not think she would “make it.” When my aunt mentioned this at the funeral yesterday, I couldn’t help but think about the gravity of that statement. Look around at all of the people standing there in tears grave side... who literally would not EXIST if that had happened! Wouldn’t “make it?” An entire branch of life and families and children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren...disappearing from the tree?

As we stood next to the grave, a huge stone stood there. Ominous. And beautiful. It was engraved on one side only. On that one side - it had my grandfather’s name from 2004 when he passed away.

Beloved husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather.

And on the other side of the stone - blank.

It struck me so severely that even in death, My grandfather was waiting door-side for my grandmother.

And now... they are finally together again.