Sometimes I think you’re embarrassed to be in your wheelchair. I can understand that. To be so utterly dependent on another person or even a machine can be a scary thing. To not be able to trust your own legs to move you from point A to point B for even necessary things like going to the bathroom. To be dependent like that can be frustrating and disappointing, and like I mentioned, scary. Trust. It’s scary to trust someone else to help you accomplish what you need to do. Asking someone to go with you to the bathroom is very different than asking someone to TAKE you to the bathroom. Or asking someone for an apple juice from the fridge because for them it takes two seconds, for you 45 minutes.

It seems paradoxically easier to just let everyone do everything for you. If you just assume you’re capable of NOTHING, then you don’t have to do ANYTHING, and you don’t have to confront the fact that there really are some things you just can’t do anymore and you really do need help with. Does that make any sense? It doesn’t mean you have to do everything, but that you at least should try. But it’s hard, it’s really hard. I know that. Hard and scary. Uncharted territory. Some have gone there before sure, but not you. Never thought it would be you. It’s weird. You’re my hero. But like the song says, “even heroes have the right to bleed.” …That’s beside the point though.

That’s why I was so proud of you. I almost cried when you agreed to go grocery shopping WITH ME instead of having me go FOR YOU. It probably seems small and trivial outside looking in, but in here, within the warm bonds of our relationship, it felt like the perpetual winter had started to thaw and small cherry blossoms were beginning to peek out. Walking down the aisles behind you, taking the groceries you handed me and getting the ones you couldn’t reach filled my heart with so much gladness I couldn’t even believe it. I was surprised; I wondered where this was all coming from. Why was I so happy?

I was happy that you were doing it on your own. Not because I mind doing things for you (although sometimes to my shame I know it seems that way) but because I saw how happy YOU were to find that you could still do it. Yes, I know you were in your automated chair, but I think you realized that just because you’re in a wheelchair doesn’t mean you can’t live a wonderful, normal life too.

And so happily I rolled along behind you as you rolled along in your chair, thrilled to do something as simple as make an impulse buy. That made me laugh. It was wonderful and funny when we got home and you didn’t even have room for all your purchases, just thrilled that you could try a new cracker because you saw it on the shelf, not because you had specifically asked for it when someone else bought your groceries (God bless them).

And even though you didn’t want to get out with me at any of the other places, saying, “you can do it faster,” it’s okay. Baby steps. I still had so much fun in that grocery store you don’t even know. I couldn’t stop smiling. I can’t wait until you can drive yourself in your van. I think I might die when that happens. I think I’ll just burst. It’s going to be so great for you. I just know it.

I know you’ve bought me quite a bit in the last little while, and I feel bad. I know you say you do it because you want to and you don’t mind and you love me, and if that really is the reason then okay. But I just want to make sure you know that my love cannot be bought and that I will be there and help you to the best of my ability regardless of money. I know that seems ridiculous to say, but I want to make sure you aren’t doing it out of guilt. I don’t want you to feel like you’re this huge burden on me, because you aren’t. I watched you do this same thing for over seven years with another person in our lives, and the thought that someone wouldn’t do the same for you absolutely breaks my heart.

I know I’m not perfect (or even very nice sometimes) but I want you to know I’m trying, and I will keep trying. I won’t give up if you won’t. Being in a wheelchair doesn’t mean you can’t have a happy life. It also doesn’t mean I won’t love you. I always have, and I promise you now that I always will. Bless you haht and all you pahts. I love you.