My grandparents have been married for 65 years, this Wednesday.
They just missed WWI, grew up in the prosperous 20s, really grew up in the Great Depression, worked for their country in WWII, raised a family, mourned a son, dealt with my long-haired cool-like-Kelso dad, worked well into their 70s, spoiled 4 grandchildren and have long started the same for their first great-grandchild, and are still going strong, with more love for each other than I have ever seen two people have.
It is inspiring.
It is heartbreaking.
It makes me hope that when I'm 90 and wrinkly, I'll still have the love of my life right there with me, my partner in crime in sneaking the great- and grandkids chocolate before dinner.