I got to spend some time with my grandmother on my father's side this weekend. She is my very last living grandparent and I was excited to learn more about her life. My sister and I peppered her with questions: What was life like when you were a child? What did you like to cook? Where did you live when you were raising children?
We asked her, "How did you meet Grandpy?" And the story she told brought tears to my eyes:
During the Second World War, she signed up to help the allies, though she was only 17. During this time, she was assigned to the morse code division, sending messages to the frontlines. In her office, also sending morse code messages, was a tall, handsome young man. They fell in love, got married. After the War, they moved to a small university town so he could learn forestry and she coudl teach business. Later, they lived in the back woods of Quebec while they had their babies and then raised them. After the kids were gone, they taught forestry in Latin America for a few years.
Grandchildren came along and they enjoyed retirement. And then, her strong, tall husband got sick with throat cancer. It was the end of his life and he could no longer speak. With his wife sitting at his side, he took her hand. Slowly, he tapped out his goodbye message of love to her in the only way he could--in morse code.
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