Read Online The Promise: A Tragic Accident, a Paralyzed Bride, and the Power of Love, Loyalty, and Friendship by Rachelle Friedman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rachelle Friedman
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because I made the decision for that to happen, not because it was predestined to happen.
With Chris, I just felt like I had to have him, every moment. If we weren’t together, I wouldn’t be the same person. If that was taken away from me, I wouldn’t be able to breathe. I felt that a soul mate was a person who made you the best that you could be, made you happy, made you want to live life and wake up.
During my time in the hospital and rehab, everyone marveled at how Chris knew, almost instinctively, how to make me comfortable. He knew me so well. My dad said later he was impressed by how quickly Chris fell into that routine as the person to defer to, and even the doctors turned to him to ask questions. He was my other half for better or worse. He knew.
CHAPTER 11
The Big Day, Take One
Instead of spending June getting ready to marry Chris, I’d spent it trying to survive and then learning about how life would be at rehab. I had sat in a wheelchair for the first time on June 5 instead of organizing who was sitting where at the wedding. I was learning how to feed myself and how to use the remaining strength in my arms to push my wheelchair instead of making last-minute floral arrangements or talking to the DJ about the music.
Since the accident Chris and my mom had gotten into a pattern of switching off, making sure each night one person stayed with me. There was a tiny chair that pulled out into a poor excuse for a bed. One night Chris and I were lying there in the dark, and we were talking. We both were aware our wedding date was approaching, just days away.
We should have been sleeping or trying to fall asleep, but Chris was talking through some feelings of guilt I hadn’t realized he had.
“I hate seeing you like this,” he said. “I was supposed to protect you, and I wasn’t there to do it.”
I didn’t say anything. My heart broke for him. I knew he was suffering badly and it was bubbling up to the surface at that moment.
Then he broke down and said, “I just wish I had danced with you more. I’m really sorry, because now we can’t.”
All I could say was, “It’s okay, sweetie.”
He doesn’t cry often. We just cried together and hugged that night. There was nothing that could be said. I could see the sadness in him that night, and I didn’t want that for him. I didn’t want him to feel regret or any kind of guilt at all. But it was the saddest moment of my stay. At that moment I wanted out. I didn’t want to be in rehab anymore. I didn’t want to be in this situation. I wanted to be dancing at my wedding. His tears were too much for me to hold it together.
June 27, 2010, arrived, the day that would have been my wedding. I didn’t wake up with butterflies in my stomach and anticipation like I should have, and while I was disappointed, I wasn’t sad. I knew we’d get there, but I had to get well first. It was hard to imagine during those days how different my June had become.
Still, we had a huge party at the rehab facility to mark the day. We’d briefly discussed getting married right then and there in the garden at the facility, but I was concerned that would mean the accident would have taken the dream wedding idea away from me. I wanted the real deal regardless, so ultimately we decided to wait.
I obviously couldn’t get dolled up clothing-wise that day, but everyone was casual for our little celebration. It was a jeans and T-shirt party for sure. Samantha was excellent at hair and makeup; on most visits she’d fix me up. So on this day, my would-be wedding, she styled my hair and applied my makeup in my room before everyone arrived.
As we got ready that day, she said, “You look so pretty.”
“Thanks,” I said, “even in my bum clothes!”
“Yes. And you’ll look even prettier on your actual wedding day. We’re all holding on for that and can’t wait.”
“I’m excited about that day happening,” I said.
“We all are, too,” Samantha said.
My aunt and
With Chris, I just felt like I had to have him, every moment. If we weren’t together, I wouldn’t be the same person. If that was taken away from me, I wouldn’t be able to breathe. I felt that a soul mate was a person who made you the best that you could be, made you happy, made you want to live life and wake up.
During my time in the hospital and rehab, everyone marveled at how Chris knew, almost instinctively, how to make me comfortable. He knew me so well. My dad said later he was impressed by how quickly Chris fell into that routine as the person to defer to, and even the doctors turned to him to ask questions. He was my other half for better or worse. He knew.
CHAPTER 11
The Big Day, Take One
Instead of spending June getting ready to marry Chris, I’d spent it trying to survive and then learning about how life would be at rehab. I had sat in a wheelchair for the first time on June 5 instead of organizing who was sitting where at the wedding. I was learning how to feed myself and how to use the remaining strength in my arms to push my wheelchair instead of making last-minute floral arrangements or talking to the DJ about the music.
Since the accident Chris and my mom had gotten into a pattern of switching off, making sure each night one person stayed with me. There was a tiny chair that pulled out into a poor excuse for a bed. One night Chris and I were lying there in the dark, and we were talking. We both were aware our wedding date was approaching, just days away.
We should have been sleeping or trying to fall asleep, but Chris was talking through some feelings of guilt I hadn’t realized he had.
“I hate seeing you like this,” he said. “I was supposed to protect you, and I wasn’t there to do it.”
I didn’t say anything. My heart broke for him. I knew he was suffering badly and it was bubbling up to the surface at that moment.
Then he broke down and said, “I just wish I had danced with you more. I’m really sorry, because now we can’t.”
All I could say was, “It’s okay, sweetie.”
He doesn’t cry often. We just cried together and hugged that night. There was nothing that could be said. I could see the sadness in him that night, and I didn’t want that for him. I didn’t want him to feel regret or any kind of guilt at all. But it was the saddest moment of my stay. At that moment I wanted out. I didn’t want to be in rehab anymore. I didn’t want to be in this situation. I wanted to be dancing at my wedding. His tears were too much for me to hold it together.
June 27, 2010, arrived, the day that would have been my wedding. I didn’t wake up with butterflies in my stomach and anticipation like I should have, and while I was disappointed, I wasn’t sad. I knew we’d get there, but I had to get well first. It was hard to imagine during those days how different my June had become.
Still, we had a huge party at the rehab facility to mark the day. We’d briefly discussed getting married right then and there in the garden at the facility, but I was concerned that would mean the accident would have taken the dream wedding idea away from me. I wanted the real deal regardless, so ultimately we decided to wait.
I obviously couldn’t get dolled up clothing-wise that day, but everyone was casual for our little celebration. It was a jeans and T-shirt party for sure. Samantha was excellent at hair and makeup; on most visits she’d fix me up. So on this day, my would-be wedding, she styled my hair and applied my makeup in my room before everyone arrived.
As we got ready that day, she said, “You look so pretty.”
“Thanks,” I said, “even in my bum clothes!”
“Yes. And you’ll look even prettier on your actual wedding day. We’re all holding on for that and can’t wait.”
“I’m excited about that day happening,” I said.
“We all are, too,” Samantha said.
My aunt and
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