My grandparents were married for over half a century, and played their own special game from the time they met each other. The goal of their game was to write the word “shmily” in a surprise place for the other to find.  “Shmily” was written in the steam left on the mirror after a hot shower, where it would reappear bath after bath. At one point, my grandmother even opened an entire roll of toilet paper to leave “shmily” on the very last sheet. Little notes with “shmily” scribbled (潦草地写) hurriedly were found on dashboards (仪表板) and car seats, or taped to steering wheels. It took me a long time before I was able to fully appreciate my grandparents’ game. Skepticism (怀疑态度) had kept me from believing in true love — one that is pure and lasting. However, I never doubted my grandparents’ relationship. They had love down pat. It was more than their flirtatious (爱调戏的) little games; it was a way of life. Their relationship was based on devotion and passionate love. Grandma and Grandpa held hands every chance they could. They stole kisses as they bumped into each other in their tiny kitchen. They finished each other’s sentences and shared the daily crossword puzzle and word jumble. My grandma whispered to me about how cute my grandpa was, how handsome and old he had grown to be. She claimed that she really knew “how to pick ‘em.” But there came a dark cloud into my grandparents’ life: when my grandmother got breast cancer. Gradually it took over the whole of her body. One day, what we all dreaded finally happened. Grandma was gone. “Shmily.” It was scrawled in yellow on the pink ribbons of my grandmother’s funeral bouquet (花束). The family came forward and gathered around Grandma one last time. Grandpa stepped up to my grandmother’s casket (棺) and, taking a shaky breath, he began to sing to her. Through his tears and sadness, the song came, a deep and throaty lullaby (催眠曲,). Shaking with my own sorrow, I would never forget that moment. S-h-m-i-l-y: See How Much I Love You. 小题1:The point of the article is to ________.
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