Today is my parents’ wedding anniversary.  They were high school sweethearts and together for 44 years before my father passed but they were only married for 30.  Of course they did not live together; Daddy served eight years in Korea and was in college after that.  I also suspect that my genteel, white grandparents did not approve of the American Indian boy literally from the other side of the tracks.  Despite everything thrown at them, they finally married.  My grandmother Maris came to love my father dearly and he was like a son to her in her last years when she had to stay in a nursing home.  Daddy was always teasing Mama.  He joked that their wedding anniversary was just “one major disaster after another” referring to the bombing of Pearl Harbor.  Although they are both in heaven now, I believe God sends us little reminders to let us know we’re not alone.  Last year I blogged about finding my mother’s final Christmas card to me and guess what literally turned up on our coffee table today??  Her cardinal Christmas card.  I could not quite believe it; my red headed mother who loved the cardinals so.  The American writer Richard Bach said, “True love stories never have endings.”  My parents’ love story continues in me and lives on in their grandchild, who shares my mother’s name and my father’s birthday.  They left behind the greatest thing possible:  love with no end.