Ode to Ephie and Leens

Eighty-five years ago today, my grandfather Ephie was born. Unfortunately, he and his better half, my grandmother Lenor (aka "Grandma Leens") passed away some years ago, so I haven't been able to share with them my excitement in finding a life partner. Every rose has its thorn, as the old song goes, and even times of great celebration are tinged with a sadness when you remember those people who are no longer here. But as I've mentioned before, missing people can be a sweet sadness. And there are plenty of wonderful things to miss about my grandparents--how my grandmother used to wait in the hallway outside their apartment after we'd called from the lobby to tell her we were coming up for a visit, or the sweet-and-sour meatballs she'd always make for us because she knew how much everyone, especially my dad, loved them. And always being able to tell someone how she really felt. (Something I appreciate more and more as I realize how my fear of confrontation can sometimes cause problems) And for my grandfather, it was sharing with us his (mostly) original quotations of love and life, all printed up on 3 by 5 inch index cards. Or, if I go back earlier in my childhood, giving us 20 words and paying us a dime for every definition we copied from the dictionary. Or letting us pick a ceramic owl from his massive collection. But more than anything, I miss how they were always there for each other throughout my grandfather's long battle with MS. It's something I miss, and also admire as I embark on a life-long commitment.