The Best Kind of Love Story

THE BEST KIND OF LOVE STORY

The other day my sister and I were sat at the kitchen table with our Nana and Grandad. We were with all the family for the weekend, staying at this sprawling house in Herefordshire surrounded by acres upon acres of gorgeous green English countryside, secluded from the rest of the world. It felt almost magical, there was something sweet and good in the air, and on this particular occasion, which occurred just after dinner, I think my Nana and Grandad must've been struck by that same magic too because they both suddenly started reeling off stories from when they first met and were courting over fifty years ago. I've heard some of the stories before but along with the old favourites, this time they added in some other memories too. So my sister and I just sat there in awe as they told us all about these wonderful tales that felt so far removed from that present moment in time. Growing up in this century and this decade, our own relationships with love are very much different to those of our grandparents and even our parents. So much so that it genuinely surprises me when I hear of the way love and romance used to be, as I just can't picture the same things happening in this day and age. 

The love stories belonging to our generation, the stories we'll one day pass on to our own grandchildren, seem to have this magic and beauty and innocence missing. Although they're lovely in their own way, they just aren't the same, and I sometimes wish I'd grown up in the same era of my grandparents, just to see what it was like back then, experience love in that magical, beautiful way. Listening to my grandparents tell their story, it fills me with great hope and awe, and yet it also fills me with sadness as I realise how much things have changed since then. Although we're so lucky to be growing up at this point in time, and there are so many advantages we have that our grandparents could only dream of, our generation will never get to experience days and times like they did. My grandparents in particular just have the most wonderful story to tell, and every time I hear it I just feel I simply have to share it with the world. If my own experiences with love, and the life I lead are even half as amazing as theirs, I'll be so, so happy. And although those days are no more, embedded in a past that's now so far out of reach, hearing of those days from those who experienced it all first hand is a mesmerising experience, and it's a way of keeping that magic alive for just a little while longer. So with that, as an ode to love and the magic of fate and days gone by, and to hopefully put a smile on your face and spark in your heart, I'd love to share with you some of my grandparents story...

♥♥♥

My Nana Carmen is Spanish and grew up in Galicia during the early Franco years. When she was a teenager she met a local boy called Alejandro and the two fell deeply in love with one another. They dated for three years and everyone, including both their families, believed they'd get married. However one day out of the blue, Alejandro, aged nineteen, was involved in a car accident and was sadly the only one to die out of all those injured. My Nana was absolutely heartbroken, as she genuinely believed that Alejandro was her one true love. Even talking about Alejandro now upsets her, and she still carries a photo of him with her. She was only a young woman at the time, on the cusp of her twenties, and her grief was so strong that she ended up joining the convent. It was the only way she could fathom carrying on with her life. Through the convent she ended up moving to England in the 1960's, with the nuns hoping it would help my Nana to overcome her grief and also better her life. Despite being extremely homesick and still deeply wrought by her grief, my Nana decided against going home to Spain and stayed in England, eventually moving to London. It was here that things began to get better. My Nana managed to get a job looking after the house and children of a wealthy English businessman who lived in East Finchley. She was very much an integral and beloved part of the family, as did she also find comfort in fellow Spanish immigrants who too lived in London, many of which became good friends of hers. After the hardships she'd endured, my Nana was now living a life she could only dream of as a little girl. Going out to dance halls and restaurants with her friends, exploring the city, having fun seeing different guys, working hard to earn her money which she would send home to her family in Spain, and she appreciated every single second of it. 

My Grandad Don, meanwhile, is from Kent and at the time the two met in the early 60's, he was studying to be an engineer and also regularly visiting nearby London, the place to be, with his friends. He too had recently experienced tragedy, as he was only eighteen when his Mum, my Great Grandma, passed away from cancer aged forty nine. However a couple of years later, unbeknown to him his life too was destined to get better than he ever could have hoped, when on one particular evening he decided to go to a particular dance hall in London with his friends. Meanwhile somewhere else in London that night, my Nana was preparing to go on a date with a Spanish guy she was seeing at the time, whilst co-incidentally, all her friends were going dancing at the very same dance hall as my Grandad. My Nana wasn't even meant to be at that dance hall that night, she was meant to be seeing another man in another part of London. And yet in a beautiful twist of fate, at the last minute her best friend Concha managed to change my Nana's mind, and so she came dancing with her friends instead. So that guy was left waiting on his motorbike at the station, never to be seen again, whilst my Nana, unbeknown to her, went on her way to meet her future husband. At the dance hall, my Grandad spotted my Nana first, Spanish beauty that she is, from across the room. He decided to be brave and walked all the way across the dance floor to ask my Nana to dance. Initially she was a tad apprehensive but she eventually agreed. They danced together for three dances. However my Grandad, in spite of his dance lessons, was fraught by nerves and ended up treading all over my Nana's feet. By the time the dancing was over, my Nana had decided she didn't want to see him again, however my Grandad is quite the charmer when he wants to be, and after the dance he began talking to my Nana, asking her questions about where she was from. Unable to resist his English charm and wonderful sense of humour, she ended up agreeing to see him again in spite of herself, and so the two of them began courting.

Every week, on my Nana's days off, my Grandad would commute to Charing Cross Station and catch the Northern line to go see my Nana in East Finchley. They would then go on dates all around London, with my Grandad always being the gentleman and never once taking advantage of my Nana. They'd have picnics in the different London parks, which my Grandad would pack and bring with him on the train. They would spend evenings dancing together at dance halls in Hampstead. My Nana would wear pretty dresses with little heels, never trousers, and my Grandad would wear his best suits. Whenever they were apart, he would write beautiful, adoring love letters to my Nana, in which he'd draw a picture of his hand holding hers and tell her how much he loved her. Meanwhile my Nana would get the help of the housemaid Betty to help her write love letters to my Grandad in perfect English. However although they were courting for a while and enjoying each other's company, my Nana was still writing to other guys at the same time, perhaps out of fear of what would happen if she lost my Grandad too. That all changed one New Years Eve. My Nana had to work so my Grandad came to visit her instead, however it began raining so when he arrived his white shirt was soaking wet. Before they enjoyed the food left for them by the family, my Grandad took his wet shirt off to dry it, and my Nana said that seeing his handsome bare chest was the moment she realised she'd fallen in love with him, whilst he supposedly had fallen in love with her eyes long before. 

Not long after that they became engaged, and my Nana decided to tell him then that she was actually four years older, having lied to him about her age when they first met. But my Grandad was so in love that he told her he didn't care that she was four years older, as long as she didn't mind that he was four years younger. The age difference didn't matter at all, they were in love, and so in 1964 they got married at a beautiful church off of Soho Square, near Oxford Street, before moving to Kent to start a family. A year later my Mum was born, two years later my oldest Uncle was born, and ten years later my youngest Uncle was born, and they all settled in a nice house in the Midlands, going back to Spain when they could to see my Nana's friends and family. Fifty one years later, with their diamond wedding anniversary behind them, and my Nana and Grandad are still happily married.

♥♥♥

I love watching my grandparents tell their story, though there's parts of it that I still don't know and probably never will. I love the way my Grandad rolls his eyes and makes jokes, as he sits there shyly, stealing sly glances her way, blushing when my Nana tells us of all the romantic things he did. The way my Nana looks over at him with this huge smile on her face as she talks, her eyes glittering, the joy and happiness so evident it seems as though it radiates out of her. It's like they're instantly transformed into those young lovers from all those years ago. Although they argue most of the time, it's affectionate, witty, loving, and it's times like the other day when you realise those two young lovers haven't gone away at all. You realise that even though time has moved on, things have changed, they still really do love each other. My Nana and Grandad have known each other for almost sixty years now. They know each other inside and out, every single flaw and weakness, and they know exactly how the other ticks. I love the kind of love they share. It's the deep kind shared by two eternal companions but masked by silly arguments, lots of laughter and making fun of one another. It's two individuals, two equals, coming together as one. My Grandad takes the mick out of my Nana, she puts him right back in his place as soon as they've both stopped laughing. They annoy the hell out of each other, they argue, they complain, and yet they so evidently love and adore each other. They're always looking out for one another, they'd do anything for each other, they understand each other completely, where one goes the other follows, that kind of thing. My Nana can call my Grandad a turd in Spanish and complain about his incessant need to put salt on everything, and yet he'll be there the next minute helping her to walk when her back is hurting, checking she's okay or dropping everything should she need him. Likewise my Grandad can say my Nana has a big bum and complain about her constant cleaning, and yet she still does everything she possibly can to care for him, look after him, make sure he's happy.

Sometimes I do suspect my Nana often wonders what her life would have been like had Alejandro never died, as does my Grandad maybe wonder what might have happened had he not gone to that dance hall in London that night. Maybe they both would have met some other time, or maybe their paths would never have crossed. But either way, the outcome of both their lives would have been so, so different, as would nine other people, including me, and this wonderful, loving, happy family we are all lucky enough to share, never have existed. And when you see the two of them together in those moments when they're not arguing, when my Nana isn't in pain, when my Grandad isn't coughing, when they aren't stressed or complaining, you can't help but feel fate had their meeting planned all along. The two of them together just have to be, it makes perfect sense. They were meant for each other so whole heartedly, their love is so deep rooted and strong, seeing them together it's impossible to imagine either with anyone else, no-one else can make them as happy as they make each other. They're each exactly what the other needs. Some things, some people, they're just meant to be, and my Nana and Grandad are one of them. And it's strange because neither of them got the futures they each saw for themselves when they were young and innocent and full of hope and possibility. They each ended up getting something else far better instead. Something beyond their wildest dreams, something some people go their whole lives never finding, something truly amazing. Amongst the millions of other people, the unforeseen tragedies, the chance meetings and decisions, the distances, the barriers, the years gone by, the different countries, the criss crossing paths of life, the good decisions, the bad decisions, the mistakes, the things done right, my Nana and Grandad somehow managed to find each other. And whilst I would call it fate, my Nana might say it was Alejandro's angel guiding her, my Grandad might say it was pure chance, others might say it was God's doing. Who knows who's right or wrong. But at the end of the day, two people who were meant to be together found each other, a true love lasting over fifty years was ignited, and together their love created new life, new love,new hope, possibility, happiness, family, and it's still burning just as strong today. And to be even a small part of all that magic, to have my being be partly derived from that amazing love, is just bloody incredible, and I hope that somewhere in this world, if I'm lucky enough, I too will one day find a love as incredible as what my Nana and Grandad share.

The Beatles, Real Love (it felt kind of fitting)