The love of a lifetime

I know I just posted this pic a day or 2 ago. There was something I forgot to mention. The best part of this photograph is that it pictures true love. My grandfather died when I was 10, so I didn't get to know him all that well. My grandmother lived until I was 24, and I remember how she spoke about him. The longing. The fondness. The sentimentality. I remember Max the Bulldog, a stuffed animal that was given to Grandpa not long before he died. It became sacred. I learned that she slept with his (worn) t-shirt under her pillow. I remember them together, through the eyes of a child. I remember her cooking, and he *always* did the dishes. This was back in the late 60s, early 70s, and that was not all that common. I asked him why he washed the dishes every night. He said that if he didn't, there would be soap left on them, and he didn't want to eat soap. That surprised me at the time, and over the years I have come to believe that there was a deeper reason. He loved her. And he wanted to make her life easier. One quiet devotion, day after day after day.
I remember the end of her days. She survived him by 14 years, and when her time came near, she was not afraid. She believed that she would be joining him soon, and that made her happy.