My grandmother, Tillie, lost her beloved, hardworking, strong-jawed, fluffy-haired husband when their marriage was still maturing and their love still on the vine. Her three sons were young men at the time of his sudden death, and, as the story goes, each one took on some of the “fathering” of the others, while none could replace the loss of her lover and partner in life. She never re-married; she relied on her apron to keep her warm. Her apple pies were made with love, a small handful of Special K, and a certain tart apple only grown in Rhode Island.

All of this happened well before I came along. I only learned of Tillie’s love stories when I was a young woman, on one of the many visits I made to her house, first as an excuse to drive the car by myself, and later as a pleasure I came to anticipate on Saturday afternoons.

My grandmother’s eyes, as blue as her memories were rich, grew wet with her words, as she floated from one memory to another.

I remember now how her hands, creased and often shadowy with flour, would move with a flourish when she said his name, usually preceded with a pregnant exhale. “Benny.” When she reached her hands to cover mine in a clasped caress, I knew a smile was about to emerge, and a memory would follow, like a friend invited into the room. My grandmother’s eyes, as blue as her memories were rich, grew wet with her words, as she floated from one memory to another. The pink tissue in her sleeve was within easy reach to wipe the overflow that dared to trickle down her thin-skinned cheeks. Nana loved these times we shared in her kitchen, the stories bringing back a flood of pleasure for her and a deepening of connection for me, not just with her, but also with my father, grandfather, and others whose lives were interwoven with mine.

What I enjoyed most about these tender exchanges in the cottage-blue kitchen, sitting on sticky plastic-covered seats, is how good we both felt, savoring the positive memories of the past. Through the doorway of love stories, we generated many more positive emotions; we were swept into an upward spiral of joy, gratitude, curiosity, hope and inspiration. Barbara Fredrickson, Ph.D., a leading scholar in the field of positive psychology, refers to this upward spiral as a key pathway to a healthier, more vibrant and flourishing life (Barbara Fredrickson, 2009).

As I write this (and you read it),  I am changing our mindset and in synchrony, stimulating a change in our biochemistry.

As I write this, with a simple trigger of positive memories, I am changing my mindset and in synchrony, stimulating a change in my biochemistry. Emotional surges of love trigger a chain of biochemical reactions that lower blood pressure, heart rate, respiration, and adrenaline levels. Hormones and peptides are released to counteract the body’s irritable and inflammatory response to stress, and certain circuits in the brain are activated while others are calmed (Eva M. Selhub, 2009). Recent research has shed light on what my Nana and I already knew: love has the power to make us feel much better, alleviate pain, and even heal what ails us.

The positive emotional and physical benefits we experience with love transcend all ages, yet as we get older, our stress outlets diminish while our stressors increase. Many face loneliness and/or isolation, displacement, loss of physical capacity, grief, impairment, serious diagnoses, and more. The older a body becomes, the less it is equipped to regulate and respond to stress. Yet studies show that health improvement and longevity are associated with being loving to oneself, family, friends, pets, and the larger world (altruistic acts) — all well within the reach of many older adults. By bringing our thoughts to positive memories, reaching a hand out to someone in need, petting an endearing animal, sharing a love story, or focusing intently on the love we feel for the special people in our lives, we offset the power of stress, and replace it with the enlivening antidote of love. This is only the beginning, as the upward spiral of more good feelings begins to spin, generating more positive feelings and experiences.

The young woman in me knows there is another 16-yearold searching for a treasure of memories for her future, the mother in me knows the value of the gift of listening attentively and lovingly to my own mother and children, and the future grandmother in me is inspired by the memories of Tillie.

The trick is to stay with the memories and bring them to as many of your senses as possible.

What inspires you to remember and savor love and other positive memories? Is there somebody in your life with whom you’d like to share your stories? Who would be a good listener? Perhaps you don’t care to share, but you’d enjoy feeling better by quietly savoring your sweetest memories. The trick is to stay with the memories and bring them to as many of your senses as possible. What music was playing? Can you smell the pie in the oven? What were you wearing? Maybe you would prefer writing your story instead of reciting it aloud. I invite you to send it to me, and I promise to reply. Most important, find your own path and light your own way down love’s memory lane. When you do, you’ll be taking an important step towards feeling better and improving your health!