It also took two wedding rings that had stayed on their fingers for almost half a century.
Grandma’s had slipped off one evening at the sink while she was washing dishes. She gasped, plunged her hand into the water, and came up with nothing.
Grandpa had just smiled sadly from the doorway.
Chemo took nearly 40 pounds.
« So did mine, » he said.
His had vanished somewhere during a hospital visit weeks earlier. He’d been carrying the secret alone until that moment at the sink.
Neither of them ever found the rings again.
But Grandma, being Grandma, had a plan.
He’d been carrying the secret alone.
When Grandpa finally finished his last round of treatment, Grandma told me, « We’re starting over. Same marriage. New rings. »
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