My grandparents were together for 62 years. But for the past eight months, they’ve lived apart—Grandpa in a care facility, Grandma in a small apartment across town. “It’s the loneliness that hurts more than anything,” she once whispered.

Each visit, Grandpa would ask, “Where’s my little mouse?” His face would light up when she arrived. But she always had to leave. “Stay a little longer,” he’d plead. It broke her.

Then one Sunday, I found her by his side, holding his hand tightly. “I never want to leave him,” she said, eyes shining with tears. I knew something had to change.

I called our priest, desperate. “They shouldn’t be apart at the end,” I told him. He shared their story at mass—and something miraculous happened.

Strangers donated. Volunteers stepped up. Someone found an affordable home where they could live together.

The day we moved Grandma in, she ran to him. “My little mouse,” Grandpa whispered, voice cracking.

Love isn’t just anniversaries—it’s choosing each other every day, no matter what. They taught me that.

If you believe love shouldn’t be separated by money, share this. Sometimes, community is what keeps love alive—right when it matters most.