We had traveled several hundred miles to the little Amish community where my paternal grandparents lived. Usually it was a joyous occasion when we went to see them, but this time was different. Everyone was gathered to say our final good-byes to Grandpa.
The morning of the funeral arrived. There was a more somber air at the farm. All the fun the big group of us cousins had the day before was pushed aside as we focused on what this day held. Mom had woke us up early, and while she was getting my brothers ready for the day I slipped outside to use the "facilities" (This particular community did not allow indoor bathrooms)
As I was ready to return to the house Grandma met me on the little path. "You're up early," she said.
I agreed. The dew was still heavy on the grass and the first signs of a sunrise were just peaking over the eastern horizon.
We stood side by side and watched the sunrise quietly. I wished with all my little ten year old self I would know what to say to her now that she no longer had Grandpa. But I didn't, so I simply stood there next to her in silence watching a new day dawn.
Once the sun was up Grandma said, "Forty years."
I looked at her, confused.
She must have read the confusion on my face. "We were married for forty years," she clarified.
"Oh," was my brilliant response.
We parted then, and I went back into the house to get ready for the funeral.
It may not be a lot, but it is now a memory I treasure.