Today was the 67th anniversary of my maternal grandparents (Grandma and Opa), and the 90th birthday of Grandma. And yes, she got married on her birthday.
We celebrated with a small family event, which included a brief surprise Zoom call from almost all the grandkids (and great-grandchildren), who were spread around the country (the ones out of country called in earlier in the morning). It was a real delight, and on many levels.
Considering being married to someone for 67 years is one of those incomparable things that I just cannot seem to fathom. Yes, I certainly understand it conceptually. However, I haven’t done anything for 67 years – not even life – so I cannot grasp such a length of time. And I also am not married to anyone, so neither can I grasp that fully (or at all). Sure, they have struggles and problems beyond just their physical and mental limitations brought on by their aging bodies and minds. Being with anyone almost all day almost every day for even a few weeks can be rough. I cannot imagine doing that for almost thirty years straight (that’s how long ago my Opa retired).
They have also managed various medical concerns and issues that have added significant amounts of stress for them, either directly for themselves and their own health or second-hand from another family member’s health here and there. And yet here they are, ninety years old, still walking around and driving themselves places and carrying on genuine and real conversations and taking care of themselves at home on a daily basis. At times, this frightens me – old age and people in it often have. I nonetheless am honored to be a selected part of their lives, and am grateful for the opportunity to have them in my life and for so long. They are extremely loving people who have taught me much in life, and who continue to love me and to teach me, and in many ways. I love them dearly.
Happy Birthday, Grandma.
And Happy Anniversary, Grandma and Opa.