My grandparents love for each other was a legend in our family. From a very young age, I heard the story of how Grandpa was driving through town one day and saw Grandma, in her a yellow dress, on the corner of Main Street. My Grandfather, having experienced love at first sight, went straight home to ask his cousin, who was this beautiful girl. Before too long they were dating and then married. They were devoted to one another. My Grandfather went off to war and they wrote each other love letters. At one point during the war my Grandfather was the sole survivor of a plane that crashed in Burma. He carved my Grandma a necklace from the windshield of the wreckage. He also brought back the material of the parachute and from it my Grandmother made Christmas stockings– the whole family has stockings made from this sacred material.
On my wedding day, our wedding rings were “warmed” in a piece of this special cloth before my husband and I exchanged them. I wanted to bring into my own marriage some of that sacred energy that my Grandparents had in theirs–devotion, respect, and deep love. Hearing the stories of how my Grandparents treated each other over the course of their marriage gave me faith in the power of love from a young age. Looking at photos and seeing the way they looked at each other, even now you can see the love between them. I wish everyone could have love like theirs, we would be a much happier world. Since I married my husband, I have started to see the world in a new way– happy couples everywhere.
My Grandmother (and Great Grandmother) were very talented artists. My Grandmother baked and decorated elaborate and elegant wedding cakes for many years, grew enormous (and weedless) gardens all over her property, created both live and dried floral arrangements, cornhusk dolls, bread dough roses, every imaginable type of homemade Christmas ornament (she had more than 25 fully decorated, themed trees that she curated for a local historical museum), and crocheted. She taught me origami, and how to make all different kinds of beautiful things. My grandmother dealt in beauty, that was her work. My grandfather repaired television sets and would always come home when there was a thunderstorm to comfort his frightened daughter (my Mother). He could fix anything and was a jolly happy soul with the kind of warm temperament which always drew people in. One day, my grandmother saw a photo of a garden house in a ladies’ magazine. Before she knew it, my grandfather had created it for her in the yard. This is one of my favorite stories of the two of them. I grew up playing around in the willow right next to this beautiful garden house. Not a shed, mind you, a garden house, as my grandmother was always quick to point out. Her garden house had a foundation, trellis, black shutters, a brick patio, window boxes full of coleus, and most importantly, a cupola. This sweet little building has always symbolized to me, deep, enduring, powerful love.
I never knew my grandfather except through the artifacts he left behind– the heart windshield necklaces, the garden house, his old antique TVs, his dog tags, my Christmas stockings, a few surviving letters, and old photos from his time at war. My grandfather with his enormous heart, passed away before I got the chance to meet him, but his legacy was always clear in my mind and heart. Though it took me many years to find my calling, I guess I should have always known that bearing witness to the love between two people in love, and celebrating their love stories, would be a central part of it. There are few joys greater than watching two people in love, make the greatest promise of their lives. Capturing this sacred moment is an honor and my life’s work.
