As the young woman walked down the stairs into the basement she noticed that it was the same as always, yet not the same as always. Sitting beneath the small window at the workbench, was her grandfather, bent over his work. She smelled the mixing fragrances of oil, wood shavings, gasoline and grass clippings. It was just like always except for one thing; her grandfather died years ago.
Standing beside the bench she could hear his raspy breathing. He spoke without lifting his eyes from his work. “I’ve been waiting for you to come.”
She stood silently, waiting. “Years ago I went to the shop and found a wooden chain, one I had carved from one piece of pine, broken, one link cracked. I never asked and you never told.”
After what seemed like an eternity she cleared her throat. “Yes, Grampa, I was playing and using the chain as a whip and it broke. I put it up and never told anyone.” She held her breath, anticipating the worst.
“You are not to worry about breaking it,” he said as he continued to sand. “That broken link represents a terrible loss you would endure in your life. Do you know which one?”
The young woman nodded yes.
At that Grandfather turned away from the bench and handed her the wooden chain with the link repaired. “Sometimes time heals, but not always. The most important healer is love because it is timeless. And that’s why you came back.”
She carried the wooden chain carefully up the stairs, walked to the living room and placed it on the mantle right beside the urn with the ashes in it.
They were perfect side by side.
vitalwholeness 
I hope–and pray,too–that love always wins. Thanks for this moving story