I don't know that I'd ever known love until that moment. My grandma lying in a comatose state in that cold hospital room. She hadn't woken up that morning, and we later found it was a stroke.

Her steady breathing our only assurance of life, we took turns at her side calling, begging her from that sleep. It seemed unnatural, breaking that oppressive silence. I can only remember when it was my grandpa's turn. His mouth set in a grim line, I watched him take her hand and call her by name, "Wake up, wake up." His eyes gazed simply at her face.

But in that gaze I saw so much: how they met, the shared emotions, the years together, joy, hope, loneliness, life, love. It almost flowed from his eyes in the place of tears, and covered her.

The amazing thing: I know that this wasn't the first time a gaze like that had passed between them, I knew that this wasn't the only such gaze passing between two people in the world at that moment, and I knew that an infinity of those gazes had passed between two people since the beginning of time.

So I cried.

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