To be quite honest I’m not really sure whether I know what love is or isn’t but I think I have a rough idea.
If you’ve been following my blog closely, you may have noticed that I talked about my grandma’s passing lightly. I’m bringing this up because this story involves her in a heavy way. God rest her soul.
My grandma’s sickness got really bad on January 5th last year. It was a Sunday. I remember very clearly because I was away from home but I’d been told she was so bad she’d fallen into a coma.
When she was finally a little better to go back home, she’d also suffered a stroke, paralyzing the left side of her body and that took away with it, her mobility and speech. She was confined to a wheelchair. This really shook the family up and especially my grandpa.
My grandpa and grandma, as I came to discover from her eulogy, had been together since she was 20years old. 8 children after, the death of their three first sons, my grandma’s diabetes and hypertension, to her death, they had been together for 50 years. 1,2,3….. Five zero. That’s a lifetime to some!
What really amazed me about their relationship was, my grandpa’s love for her never dwindled. In fact, I think he loved her even more after she fell sick.
Why? My grandmother would have problems sleeping at night when her sugar levels went up, sometimes down and my grandpa would stay up with her, tired as he was, just to talk to her, telling her how she had to live because we all loved her and she had to believe she would get better. She had to believe it with everything she had. He had conversations with her, despite the fact that she couldn’t say anything back. He sang her her fave songs and just stayed up until she managed to fall asleep.
Even before she fell sick, my grandparents still shared their matrimonial bed. I remember when she was all good I would hear them talk late in the night, laughing and waking up early in the morning to pray together. When she fell ill, my grandpa gave up the bed for her comfort and took the couch.
As heartbroken as he was, not once did I see him show her his weakness or shed a tear in her presence. He stayed strong for the both of them. My grandpa would leave the house early in the morning sometimes and go into town looking for something she’d find tasty enough to at least eat or swallow (her eating wasn’t so good because she also had wounds in her throat for some reason). He went. He had people he could send but he preferred to take care of her himself.
He was very specific about how her food was prepared. He made sure she had her injections on time, she’d taken her drugs and she’d had enough sunlight and rest. Every. Single. Day to her dying day. As a matter of fact, he was right there when she passed on. The last person she’d spent her last few hours with on earth, in this world, was the man she loved, same thing for my grandpa.
He was sad she was gone but I also feel deep down, like everybody else, he was happy that she was finally at peace and not in pain anymore. Hard as it was for us to accept and believe it.
From that whole experience, I think I know what love is. Scratch that, I KNOW and have experienced love first hand. No denying that.
I had a conversation with grandpa a while back and he said that there’s no way he’s going to let any other females roam around his compound just because he’s gone. They (females) need to respect his and my grandma’s household.
Grandpa could marry again if he wanted to but he won’t. He’s still in love with one woman. Even in death.
I can only hope that my love story (and this particular one to be precise) will be as beautiful as this one.
I said bad things about love before (cue: Me and My Selfishness) yet here I am, head over heels for this human. I’d do anything (hold up… ALMOST anything) just to see him happy.
I didn’t look for him, didn’t even think it was possible to be here but well, it is what it is.
Maybe My Idea of Love (part 2) will be about this amazing human 🙂