by Patricia Gray

Created on: July 11, 2008   Last Updated: July 12, 2008

My Boyfriend and I had plans to attend a New Year's party to ring in 1977. Anticipating a splashy, glittering evening the phone rang. My 19 year-old heart skipped a beat hearing my grandfather on the line.

Grandpa lived alone and was very independent. A spry, healthy man at 88, my grandfather was left rather loosely in my care while my parents were out of town. I was merely on call should something unexpected come up.

Grandpa's wife of 56 years, my grandmother, had died less than two years ago, yet he'd already snagged a new woman in his life. The family was a bit surprised by this turn, but his ability to find renewed love inspired me. He demonstrated that it is never too late for love. He professed that he was madly in love with Edna, eleven years younger than him and his eyes lit up at the mention of their age difference. Edna's light red hair made her look younger still. But behind her back, Grandpa would whisper to me, "Of course that's a wig she's wearing, you know." Edna also had cancer. None in the family knew her prognosis, but we were delighted to see how happy she made him.

His distressed voice was all nerves. "Patty, I'm feeling very ill. I'm shaky and need to go to the hospital. Can you come over now and drive me?"

Grasping the phone harder, I stammered in a mix of emotions. "Why, of course, Grandpa! We'll be right there!"

On the drive over, Lenny and I wondered how our evening might shape up. I was amazed at the timing. "Just my luck!" I mumbled. "What are the odds that the most virile man in our family- not to mention our family patriarch- should suddenly fall sick while I'm the only family member in town?"

When we arrived, Grandpa was all smiles as he stood waiting for us at his front door wedged partly open. As he invited us inside his manner was relaxed and social, with no sense of urgency whatsoever. A small overnight bag was ready and packed, its two large handles poised for easy grasp. "Have I ever shown you my sword collection?" Grandpa asked Lenny, who returned a puzzled look to him.

Looking back at me with elbows raised and palms up in the gesture of complete perplexity, Lenny followed Grandpa up a flight of stairs. From below the open staircase, I could hear the familiar stories. I grinned as I heard the pride in his voice as he recounted the antiquity of each of his special blades. The hardwood floor creaked as Grandpa handled his treasures, carefully removing and returning the swords that hung proudly in the upstairs hall. Sharing their

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