It Was A Good Life


Every year he sings Grandma the same special song he made up, “50 yeaaaars married tothewronnnng womannnn….”. And every year she smiles at him and then hits him over the head for that song. A song my siblings and I have adopted into our own marriages now.

Maile was born just after he passed away. We did everything we could to get out of the hospital before the 24 hours standard stay in order to make it to his funeral. We rushed home. Left her in her carseat. Showered quickly and were off again. We met my family at the cemetery. Cradling a breath of new life while mourning one lost. A reunion unmatched in heaven that day. Father and son together at last.

When I asked Granny to describe Grandpa in a word, without pause she said simply, “a friend. He was a good friend.”

Grandma and Grandpa.

I asked her if she ever questioned her choice to marry Grandpa considering the short time they dated.

“Oh NO!!! It was a good life.”

How sweet, I thought. She sure loved that man. And then she followed it up by saying,

“I thought about murder a couple times, but….”

And we both had a good laugh about that as I breathed a sigh of relief. She makes me feel so normal.