面对癌症的再次侵袭，在祖父的拐杖和坚实的手臂的帮扶下，他们每天清晨一起散步去教堂默祷。但祖母日渐消瘦，终于，祖父只能独自去教堂，祈求上帝眷顾祖母。
然而那天，我们担心的事终于还是发生了，祖母去世了。
“Shmily”写在祖母葬礼上花束的黄色缎带上。当人群散去，叔伯、姑姑和其他的家庭成员又走上前来最后一次围聚在祖母身旁。祖父步向祖母的灵柩，用颤抖的声音轻轻地唱起“知道我有多么爱你”透过悲伤的泪，这低沉的歌声轻柔地飘入我的耳朵……因悲伤而颤栗着，我永远无法忘记那一刻。因为我知道，我无法体会他们爱得有多深，但我却有幸亲眼目睹了无与伦比的爱情之美。
我终于明白了他们特殊小游戏的意义SHMILY： See how much I love you（知道我有多么爱你）。
See How Much I Love You
My grandparents were married for overhalf a century， and played their own specialgame from the time they had met eachother. The goal of their game was to writethe word “shmily” in a surprise place forthe other to find. They took turns leaving“shmily” around the house， and as soon asone of them discovered it， it was their turnto hide it once more.
They dragged “shmily” with theirfingers through the sugar and flourcontainers to await whoever was preparingthe next meal. They smeared it in thedew on the windows overlookingthe patio where my grandma alwaysfed us warm， homemade puddingwith blue food coloring. “shmily”
was written in the steam left on themirror after a hot shower， where itwould reappear bath after bath.
At one point， my grandmothereven unrolled an entire roll of toiletpaper to leave “shmily” on the verylast sheet.
There was no end to the places“shmily” would pop up. Little noteswith “shmily” scribbled hurriedlywere found on dashboards and carseats， or taped to steering wheels.
The notes were stuffed inside shoesand left under pillows.
“Shmily” was written in the dustupon the mantel and traced in theashes of the fireplace. This mysteriousword was as much a part of mygrandparents house as the furniture.
It took me a long time beforeI was able to fully appreciate mygrandparents game. Skepticismhas kept me from believing in truelove-one that is pure and enduring.
However， I never doubted mygrandparents relationship. They hadlove down pat. It was more than theirflirtatious little games； it was a wayof life. Their relationship as based ona devotion and passionate affectionwhich not everyone is lucky enoughto experience.
Grandma and Grandpa heldhands every chance they could. Theystole kisses as they bumped intoeach other in their tiny kitchen. Theyfinished each others sentences andshared the daily crossword puzzleand word jumble. My grandmawhispered to me about how cute mygrandpa was， how handsome and oldhe had grown to be. She claimed thatshe really knew “how to pick them”.
Before every meal they bowed theirheads and gave thanks， marveling attheir blessings： a wonderful family，good fortune， and each other.
But there was a dark cloud in my grandparents life： mygrandmother had breast cancer. The disease had first appeared tenyears earlier. As always， Grandpa was with her every step of theway. He comforted her in their yellow room， painted that way sothat she could always be surrounded by sunshine， even when shewas too sick to go outside.
Now the cancer was again attacking her body. With thehelp of a cane and my grandfathers steady hand， they went tochurch every morning. But my grandmother grew steadily weakeruntil， finally， she could not leave the house anymore. For a while，Grandpa would go to church alone， praying to God to watch overhis wife.
Then one day， what we all dreaded finally happened.
Grandma was gone.
“Shmily.” It was scrawled in yellow on the pink ribbons of my grandmothers funeralbouquet. As the crowd thinned and the last mourners turned to leave， my aunts， uncles，cousins and other family members came forward and gathered around Grandma one lasttime. Grandpa stepped up to my grandmothers casket and， taking a shaky breath， he beganto sing to her. Through his tears and grief， the song came， a deep and throaty lullaby.
Shaking with my own sorrow， I will never forget that moment. For I knew that，although I couldnt begin to fathom the depth of their love， I had been privileged to witnessits unmatched beauty.
Finally I knew the meaning of their special game “SHMILY”： See How Much I Love You.
