When my grandpa was young, his father remarried. Upset, the youth ran away from home and joined the crew on a ship, leaving his native home, Singapore.

Sailing from shore to shore, he met and fell in love on an island in Indonesia.

His step mom loved the runaway boy and sent his uncles to scour the islands for her step son.

Eventually, his uncle found him and persuaded my grandpa to come home.

Starry eyed grandma followed my hunky grandpa (he was an athlete who represented Malaya in the iron man games) back to Singapore.

Years passed. Grandma bore grandpa seven sons and one daughter.

Her once svelte, hourglass figure was gone.

She fell ill. Grandpa spent his fortune on doctors, trying to find a cure. She became morbidly obese and needed help to move around.

Grandpa, still in great shape loved her and faithfully tended to her needs. They survived a world war and raised a huge family together.

She died.

Grandpa, a chain smoker quit smoking in memory of her. He never puffed a cigarette again.

That twinkle in his eyes vanished with her death.

Everyday, for over a decade, he spoke about going home to her. Love lasted beyond the grave. Christians, he longed for his reunion with his love and wife in heaven.

He had a stroke and was paralyzed from waist down.

One day, he told one of his sons he was going home. He said goodbye to his loved ones.

The next day, he had a massive heart attack.

Doctors could not save him.

He died.

He looked happier in death than he had since grandma passed away.

He was finally reunited.. with his love.