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When the doctor told him it was time to change his pacemaker battery, James Stewart, 88, replied with gentle firmness: “I’m going to Gloria now.” He had already decided. He didn’t want to prolong his life—he wanted to return to the love of his life. For decades he had been known as “America’s greatest bachelor.” Handsome, kind, beloved by all, he had dated extraordinary women: Ginger Rogers, Marlene Dietrich, Olivia de Havilland… and yet he had never married. Then, at 39, he met Gloria Hatrick McLean. She was already the mother of two children, recently divorced. An elegant, strong woman, with green eyes and a quiet grace that left Jimmy speechless. He fell in love instantly. He courted her shyly, even won over Gloria’s jealous dog… and at 41, he asked her to marry him. On August 9, 1949, they were married in a simple ceremony with only 18 guests. It was the most anticipated wedding in Hollywood—and the most sincere. Jimmy adopted Gloria’s two sons as if they were his own. Then came the twins, Judy and Kelly. When Gloria nearly lost her life during childbirth, Jimmy never left her side. He slept at the hospital, watching over her day and night. Their life together was a rare miracle in Hollywood: no scandals, no rumors—just real love. Forty-five years of laughter, children, travels, lunches in the garden, and that house in Beverly Hills filled with shared memories. In 1969, they lost their son Ronald, killed in Vietnam at 24. An unbearable pain. But they stayed together. Always. When Gloria died in 1994, Jimmy slowly faded with her. He stopped going out. He refused awards and interviews. He spent his days in Gloria’s garden, talking to her as if she were still there. In 1996, doctors told him they needed to replace his pacemaker battery—a simple procedure. But Jimmy refused. “I don’t want to go on living if my life no longer has a purpose,” he had said years earlier. And his purpose… was Gloria. On July 2, 1997, surrounded by his children in the home where they had lived their whole life, Jimmy Stewart passed away peacefully. He was 89. His last words were: “I’m going to Gloria now.” He wasn’t sad. He wasn’t afraid. He was ready. Because theirs wasn’t a love story meant for magazine covers. It was a deeper truth: that true love doesn’t end with death. It waits. Patiently. Until it can be reunited. In a world that teaches us to “always resist,” to “never depend on anyone,” Jimmy left us a different lesson: love is also choosing to let go when the soul you love is no longer here. He didn’t fight to live a few more years. He chose Gloria. Once again. Forever.