Grandpa still played and taught drums and continued with his life. After an appropriate time had elapsed, the predictable “casserole brigade” started appearing at his doorstep. Unfailingly polite, he thanked each lady for her kind attention, but told her there was only one woman for him and that was Grandma. He had lived his lifelong love. This was the Way of the Owl.
This passage reminded me of my father whose nickname growing up in the 1920s was "Owl." He and my mother were married for 49 years. After she passed away, there appeared a steady stream of various pies and cakes on the deck of his Cape Cod home, all left there by a neighboring widow. One day while he was walking, his neighbor came out to say hello. My father thanked her for all the goodies she had been leaving for him. She then asked him, "John, do you like to dance?" He replied, "Why, yes, I do. And I like to do the asking!" Ah...the Way of the Owl.