I love it, too; had seen it once before, but more enjoyable each time I read 
it again. thanks for a terrific post.

Sandy
----- Original Message ----- 
From: "helen" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
To: <[email protected]>
Sent: Wednesday, July 02, 2008 6:28 PM
Subject: [RecipesAndMore] Re: S - H - M - I - L - Y


>
> Oh I love this! Thanks for sharing. Yet again!
>
> Helen
> ----- Original Message ----- 
> From: "steve doyle" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
> To: <[email protected]>
> Sent: Sunday, June 29, 2008 7:43 AM
> Subject: [RecipesAndMore] S - H - M - I - L - Y
>
>
> S - H - M - I - L - Y
>
> My grandparents were married for over half a century, and played their own
> special game from the time they had met each other. The goal of their game
> was to write the word "shmily" in a surprise place for the other to find.
> They took turns leaving "shmily" around the house, and as soon as one of
> them discovered it, it was their turn to hide it once more.
>
> They dragged "shmily" with their fingers through the sugar and flour
> containers to await whoever was preparing the next meal. They smeared it 
> in
> the dew on the windows overlooking the patio where my grandma always fed 
> us
> warm, homemade pudding with blue food coloring. "Shmily" was written in 
> the
> steam left on the mirror after a hot shower, where it would reappear bath
> after bath. At one point, my grandmother even unrolled an entire roll of
> toilet paper to leave "shmily" on the very last sheet. There was no end to
> the places "shmily" would pop up. Little notes with "shmily" scribbled
> hurriedly were found on dashboards and car seats, or taped to steering
> wheels.
>
> The notes were stuffed inside shoes and left under pillows. "Shmily" was
> written in the dust upon the mantel and traced in the ashes of the
> fireplace. This mysterious word was as much a part of my grandparents' 
> house
> as the furniture. It took me a long time before I was able to fully
> appreciate my grandparents' game. Skepticism has kept me from believing in
> true love, one that is pure and enduring.
>
> However, I never doubted my grandparents' relationship. They had love down
> pat. It was more than their flirtatious little games; it was a way of 
> life.
>
> Their relationship was based on a devotion and passionate affection which
> not everyone is lucky to experience. Grandma and Grandpa held hands every
> chance they could. They stole kisses as they bumped into each other in 
> their
> tiny 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 claimed 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, and each other.
>
> But there was a dark cloud in my grandparents' life: my grandmother had
> breast cancer. The disease had first appeared ten years earlier.
>
> As always, Grandpa was with her every step of the way. He comforted her in
> their yellow room, painted that way so that she could always 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 
> my
> grandfather' s steady hand, they went to church every morning.
>
> But my grandmother grew steadily weaker until, finally, she could not 
> leave
> the house anymore. For a while, Grandpa would go to church alone, praying 
> to
> God to watch over his wife.
>
> Then one day, what we all dreaded finally happened. Grandma was gone.
> "Shmily." It was scrawled in yellow on the pink ribbons of my grandmother' 
> s
> funeral bouquet. As the crowd thinned and the last mourners turned to 
> leave,
> my aunts, uncles, cousins and other family members came forward and 
> gathered
> around Grandma one last time.
>
> Grandpa stepped up to my grandmother' s casket and, taking a shaky breath,
> he began to sing to her. Through his tears and grief, the song came, a 
> deep
> and throaty lullaby. Shaking with my own sorrow, I will never forget that
> moment. For I knew that, although I couldn't begin to fathom the depth of
> their love, I had been privileged to witness its unmatched beauty.
>
> S-h-m-i-l-y: means See How Much I Love You.
>
> A single candle can illuminate an entire room. A true friend lights up
> an entire lifetime. Thanks for the bright lights of your friendship.
>
>
>
> > 


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