My grandparents were married 65 years. My grandmother had a stroke in 95 and hasn't been able to speak since. They used to crack me up with the arguments they would have. He knew exactly what she was trying to say to him and he would yell at her and she would shake her fist and moan really loud. It was hilarious.
He died on veterans day last year and his funeral was the saddest one that I have ever attended. There was not a dry eye in the place, it wasn't only because it was my grandfather and the patriarch of the family, but because of the love they shared for each other. She sat at his casket and fixed his hair and she would put her hand on his shoulder as though she were trying to wake him up and when she cried it was this mornful wail that could just rip your heart out.
When the soldier handed her the flag, they were so chocked up that they barely got the words out and I've never seen a soldier cry at a funeral. In fact, when they did the 21 gun salute I looked back and they were crying.
He was a veteran of the Korean war and World War II. He retired just as Vietnam began, my dad and my uncle went.
She was 14 and he was 21 when they married. I told my husband that I want that. I want that kind of love. To be married for 65 years and to be that in love. I want that.