My 87-year-old grandmother called the entire family in tears and said, “Come to my house on Sunday—This will be our last dinner together.” We feared the doctor had given her terrible news… But what my grandmother said next was even more shocking to us…

That day, she wore her red shoes again.

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And while we were posing for the family photograph, she looked at us and said:

“Never assume that when someone grows old, all they have left to do is wait for the end. Sometimes that’s when the most

beautiful part of life begins.”

Can true love begin at 87, or does love have no age limit? What do you think?