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When you hear about a couple that stayed together their entire lives, it’s really special. As all of us probably know, it can be a lot of work!
One grandson decided to share a simple photo that put a lump in the throats of millions of people: his grandpa’s final message to his grandma.
He wrote, “This is the last note my grandfather left my grandma before he died. He attached it to his will because he knew that’d be the only time she would find it.”
This I will remember,
When the rest of life is through:
The finest thing I’ve ever done
Is simply loving you.
What a beautiful note to leave. I’m sure his wife was overwhelmed with feelings when she found it.
Other people on the Internet who read it certainly were. It even inspired them to begin telling stories of their own grandparents.
One user wrote:
My grandfather’s handwriting looked just like this with the random capital letters and very straight lines. I wonder if it is generational? He was a romantic too. My grandmother died after giving birth to my mom, and he still kept her picture on his bedside table and didn’t take off his wedding ring for the next forty years until he died. He was a very loving man.
Another shared his story:
My grandfather died when my dad was 14. His ashes were spread on a spot at a local cemetery. My grandmother never remarried and supposedly never even dated again.
40+yrs later, my grandmother died. We spread her ashes on the same spot her husband was. Then, we went inside some building at the cemetery I didn’t know about.
Apparently, this is where they kept personal records for the deceased. These books would have the name of the deceased, their date of death, a small note. and who they were “survived” by. Oftentimes there were spaces under their name for their spouses to be placed upon death.
My dad found his father’s entry, and the space below for his mother. The note next to his dad said simply “Till we meet again.” I asked my dad what we were going to write for his mum, though through welling eyes I already knew.
“We meet again” is all he said, and that was probably only the second or third time I’ve ever seen my dad cry. I bawled quietly as he wrote it all in the book. I never knew my grandfather, but I knew my grandmother very well. She’d always been content with my dad and us, never seemed to have any regrets. She read tonnes of romance novels. Sometimes she would say in a jovial tone that she’s ready to move on and I would balk, but she’d just say “You’ll understand when you’re older.”
I never knew the love they shared but it must have been something powerful. They were from a generation of Brits that didn’t share their feelings as openly as later generations, so I know those few words scrawled in that book mean way more than their brevity might imply.
I don’t know about you but my tissue box is getting empty.