Looking back, we found a legacy of love and a timeless story for Valentine’s Day.
My grandparents, Harry and Ernestine, were born in 1922 and grew up in the same neighborhood.
Harry, my grandpa, was one of seven kids, didn’t go to school much after 8th grade, and was raised by a single mom.
Ernestine, my grandma, was the daughter of an Englishman and was raised on a farm with chickens and cows.
Every summer since my grandpa was about 10 years old, he would go down to the city’s amusement park, Jefferson Beach, and do whatever he could for a few cents.
By the time my grandparents were about 18 years old, my grandpa was in charge of running some of the rides at Jefferson Beach, and had built up quite a reputation as the local heartthrob.
Naturally, when my grandpa met my grandma, she was completely disinterested. And as the story goes, he was crazy about her. After countless rejections, she finally decided to go on a date with him. By winter, he was ice skating three miles down Lake St. Clair every week to have dinner at her parent’s house.
Three children, two battles against cancer, and one Purple Heart later, they were married nearly 70 years until my grandma passed away in September 2012.
They loved each other unconditionally, but more than that, they challenged each other every single day. Even up to the end, my grandma loved to regularly remind my grandpa that she was the girl who couldn’t have cared less at Jefferson Beach all those years ago.
I’m lucky to live with my grandpa, who is now 91 years old. Even though things are getting rough with his Parkinson’s, we still go through old photos at least once a week while he recalls the story of each one. ~shared by @rustyrosebud
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