Posted by
The Hermit Crab on Monday, February 14, 2011 6:20:22 PM
At a glance, they seemed an unlikely prospect for romance. They met in Heidelberg, Germany, at the end of the Second World War. She was a small, beautiful Polish DP (Displaced Person) working in a coffee-and-doughnut cafe catering to GIs. He was even younger, not so good-looking, smallish US soldier stationed in Heidelberg in the aftermath of the most destructive war in human history. He fell in love when he first saw her, but to her he was nothing but another hard-drinking occupation soldier far from home and far from impressive. He told his soldier buddies that he would marry her someday, but they had no reason to believe it. He was lucky if they didn't laugh.
Actually, he was lucky, period. Make that exclamation point.
The beautiful DP had a problem. She couldn't go home. The communists had taken over in Poland once the Nazis had been driven out, so Poland was still not really free. Her father advised her not to come home. So what could she do for a future?
The young GI had it better. The GIs in the American zone had it nice, since Germany was largely on a "candy bars and chocolate" economy, and the soldiers were the only people in town who had plenty of both. What he didn't have was the girl of his dreams, although he could see her every time she worked. What he did have was a sense of humor and a never-say-die determination. He had told his friends that he would marry that beautiful woman, and he had every intention of doing just that.
He asked her out -- again and again. She turned him down every time for many weeks, but then she softened. She claimed that she said "yes" so that her friends could be amused when he fell over in shock, but I'm not sure I believe that. Whatever the reason, she said yes. They went out.
And the romance began.
They climbed mountains and went hiking together. They saw Martha Raye together, and laughed together. They fell in love together. They married.
The bookish young soldier and the beautiful young bride journeyed back to America to meet his family, having to endure a fierce English Channel storm on the way. It's debatable which prospect frightened her more. She considered getting back on the bus when it let them off, and the young soldier's family rushed forward to greet him, but not her at that moment. She saw the 10 year old boy Richard beaming at her, though, so she decided to give it a chance.
Eventually his family decided that they loved her, too. Some hardscrabble times followed. The post World War Two upstate New York economy was hardly booming, and for a time they had to rely on the kindness of family and friends to help them get established. Eventually they managed to get their own apartment, and later they would relocate twice more. He held several different jobs (sometimes more than one at a time), and she would work for 17 years as a waitress. A fine waitress. He would eventually become a sheet-metal worker, one of the best in the whole state.
They finally found themselves with their own version of the American Dream -- five children and a mortgage.
They raised their children to be independent thinkers, and must have more than once regretted that decision, at least temporarily. They had victories and defeats, like any other people. They lost one son tragically young, and had to cope with the loss together. Among all of the changing circumstances of their lives, the one thing they had always was their love, which grew stronger and stronger as the years passed. That love was ever present and nearly always visible to those around them. It was a joy to their family, and an ever-present example to their children. Their niece Florence said that the first thing she thought of whenever she thought of Uncle David and Aunt Marie was the way their eyes shone every time they looked at each other. Their daughter-in-law Carol saw the same thing, and was moved as well.
Over the years, the children had children, and them some of those children had children, and so they found they were heading a four-generation family. The grand-children soon learned what a gift it was to have grandparents who were so perfect together. Grandma and Grampa's house became a haven of comfort and affection. They had reached a depth of love that few people will ever know in their lives. They had made themselves into a perfect couple.
They fulfilled their marriage vows beautifully, having supported each other in poverty and in (relative) plenty, and in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, but then the end of the oath got them.
David got ill, and this time he did not recover. He sickened, and all too soon he went home to die. He refused to go to a hospice house, for his determination was to spend every minute he could near his beloved Maria. The whole family flocked to his bedside, and he was glad to see them all, but they all ranked behind Mom/Grandma, and all knew and understood. Carol remarked that even at the end, his seemingly lifeless eyes would pick up life and love when his beloved Maria approached him. To the end, they were the two in love of whom their grand-daughter Michelle said "I've never seen anyone like them. They're like a great love story. Somebody should make a movie about them!"
Sadly, death did part them last Thursday (February 10th, a date that will live in family infamy) after almost 64 years -- but only for the moment, for evidence of their special love endures. David will have no funeral now. His remains will be cremated, and the urn will be given to Maria for safekeeping until her time comes. Then they shall have a double funeral, no doubt accompanied by enough tears to float a kayak, if not a yacht. Even the trappings of death cannot separate them, for they are one of the great unknown love stories of history. They shall, until their very last earthly moment, be the ideal two in love for all of us who had the privilege to know them and to see what love can be.
Typing the last few paragraphs was a little uncomfortable for me. I'm not used to referring to these wonderful people as David and Maria. I'm much more accustomed to calling them Dad and Mom. On this sad St. Valentine's Day, I shall reflect on the greatest romance I have ever had the fortune to see, that of my own parents, the two most wonderful people I shall ever know.
Happy St. Valentine's Day.