Side by side, they survived hardships that tore apart nations.

In 1933, Adolf Hitler rose to power in Germany and my grandparents had to leave behind friends, family, a home and a career. They escaped to British-occupied Palestine.

In 1948 came the Israeli War for Independence, and the life they had rebuilt was threatened once more by bloodshed and instability.

When they returned to Germany to try to restore what they had been forced to abandon 23 years earlier, they had to start from scratch all over again.

My grandparents' challenges were not confined to the effects of international politics. At the age of 56, my grandmother decided to attend medical school, and my grandfather taught her the calculus she needed to pass the entrance exams. She graduated at the same time as my mother.

Standing by their family was just as important as standing by each other. In 1970, they made a third international relocation--to the United States, where they could be nearer to their two children.

My grandmother was there for my mother when I was born in 1973; she gave up practicing medicine to take care of me during the day, so that my mother could continue to work fulltime.

When a blow from a tire swing knocked me flat on my back and nearly caused me to lose four teeth in the fifth grade, Omi was my personal nurse. Each day for several weeks, she came to school at noon to bring me the liquefied lunch that was all I could eat.

And Opa came along when I needed someone to go down into the basement with me because I was scared to go alone. Several years later, when In had frequent trouble with my Latin homework, Opa helped me, although he was blind and had studied Latin more than 70 years earlier.

As role models and as friends, my grandparents stood by me much as they stood by each other for fifty years before I was born.

So when my grandfather lay ill in a sterile hospital room a little over a year ago, I tried to be there for him, standing by the side of his bed for hours and days on end. It was only then that the depth of my grandparents' devotion to each other truly became clear to me.

Often, during those last few weeks of his life, Opa would call out for Omi.

She would be there, holding his hand.

And he would smile.