Some thoughts on my Grandparents. The story ended up being so very different from what I intended.

My Grandma and Grandad Davies were traditional and conservative, so the idea of them being young and infatuated is hard to fathom until you see a photo like this. As handsome as my Grandad was (he retained a full head of silver hair until the day he died), he was unarguably a very difficult man. Perhaps there was some PTSD that lingered from his service during the WW2. Perhaps the quirky nature of our Davies genes are to blame. Perhaps just the passage of time and a lifetime together quietens the desire. I often wonder if they were happy though, if they loved each other, or if their being together was because they had settled, because my Grandma had settled, because that is what people did back then. Regardless, I know that they were devoted to one another. They spent a whole lifetime together. Towards the end, my Grandma nursed my Grandad for 2 years while he was dying of bone cancer, because he refused all other help, all the while a massive tumour was growing inside of her head. She collapsed on the day of his funeral, was taken into hospital and never came home. She died just over 2 months later, the day after they found her tumour. She was so devoted it killed her but I prefer to think she died of a broken heart. Photo: Circa 1935-1940; Journaling: Feb 2010


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