love letters

Vegetarian Times, June, 2001

Playing relationship games isn't always a bad thing

Probably because more people get married this month than any other time of the year, June has come to symbolize the purity and innocence of new love. But the following story, excerpted from Why Do Fools Fall in Love (Jossey-Bass, 2001), turns the prism and gives us a new perspective on love. It's proof that even long after the honeymoon is over, love doesn't have to grow stale; it can deepen into something so meaningful that nothing can transcend it.

My grandparents, who were married for more than half a century, played a special game their entire lives. The game was simple: one person would write the word SHMILY in a surprise place for the other to find and as soon as it was discovered, it became that person's turn to hide the word in a new place. They finger-painted it in the sugar and flour containers to await the preparation of the next meal. They smeared it in the dew on the windows overlooking the patio, where my grandma always fed us warm, home-made pudding. SHMILY was written in the steam left on the mirror after a hot shower, where it would reappear, time after time. At one point, my grandmother unrolled, and then re-rolled, an entire roll of toilet paper to leave SHMILY on the last sheet.

These two had love down pat. With them, love was more than a flirtatious little game; it was a way of life. Their relationship was based on a devotion and passionate affection that few are lucky enough to experience. Grandma and Grandpa held hands every chance they could. They stole kisses as they bumped into each other on their way to the kitchen. They finished each other's sentences and shared the daily crossword puzzle and word jumble. My grandma whispered to me about how cute my grandpa was, how handsome and old he had grown to be. She liked to tell me that she really knew "how to pick 'em." Before every meal they bowed their heads and gave thanks, marveling at their blessings: a wonderful family, good fortune, each other.

But there was a dark cloud in my grandparents' life: My grandmother had breast cancer. The disease had first appeared 10 years earlier. As always, Grandpa was with her every step of the way. He comforted her in their yellow bedroom, painted that color so she could be surrounded by sunshine even when she was too sick to go outside. Now the cancer was again attacking her body. With the help of a cane and Grandpa's steady hand, Grandma made it to church every day. But she grew steadily weaker until, finally, she could no longer leave the house. For a while Grandpa would go to church alone, praying to God to watch over his wife.

Then one day, the thing we all dreaded for so long finally came to pass: Grandma was gone. Toward the end of the funeral, as the crowd began to thin out, aunts, uncles, cousins and other family members gathered around Grandma one last time. Grandpa stood over the casket and, taking a shaky breath, began to sing to her. Through his tears and grief the song came, a deep throaty lullaby. Shaking with my own sorrow, I will never forget that moment. I looked down at her bouquet, and there were the letters I had seen all my life--SHMILY--but never before did their meaning, See How Much I Love You, seem more poignant.

Excerpted with permission from Why Do Fools Fall in Love: Experiencing the Magic, Mystery, and Meaning of Successful Relationships, by Janice Levine and Howard Markman (Jossey-Bass, a Wiley Company, 2001). This book is available at bookstores, online booksellers, the Jossey-Bass web site (www.jbp.com) or by calling (800) 956-7739.