Post by susan on Jun 3, 2011 9:10:17 GMT -5
When it's over.
When love is lost or hearts are broken between a dev and a quad, not much differs from a traditional relationship. What does differ - greatly - is the stuff between I love you and goodbye.
I knew my quad before he was disabled. We were young, high school young. I was very immature, emotionally, and he was very deep but childish. Although I felt incredibly guilty, I moved on to another man without too many apologies.
A few years later I got an instant message from a mutual friend. Did I know our friend was in a car accident and got air lifted to a hospital down the street? I turned off my computer immediately and got in the car. I wasn't sure of anything but where I was going. When I walked into his hospital room I nearly fainted.
I spent almost every day of the next several months by his side. We had a lot of catching up to do, he had a lot of healing and soul searching ahead. There were good days and bad, laughs and tears, anger and pain, rough physical therapy sessions, sweet nurses, awful food, sneaking him out for fresh air in his hospital bed, and dark, smelly corridors full of beeping monitors and crash carts. When he was transferred to rehab I drove an hour every night to be with him. We watched "Felicity" religiously and talked about old times. I wasn't there because I wanted to be or because I was obligated to be or because he asked me; I was there because I needed to be. I needed to be with him, I loved him so much, and I would do anything for him. We had definitely gone down different paths since high school and kept very different friends. We didn't have much more in common than an extreme connection that had always been.
When he returned home from rehab things got much trickier. It was home for him, his parents' home, but not comforting. He was aggravated, agitated and frustrated by his needs, the lack of accessibility of the house and "the help", all of whom he was dependent on and related to. Our visits were fewer and further between despite the fact that he was now only 10 minutes away. His friends, who I couldn't stand and had nothing in common with, had taken over my role. They were now the ones he leaned on for help, support, entertainment, haircuts, face scratches, and meals. I was replaced and bitter. He was feeling better than before, was happy to have his fair-weather friends back and was a completely different person when they were around. He was now one of "them", a total asshole. He wasn't the sweet and open man that bared his soul and shared his heart, that was now only when no one was watching. I drew the line when he bit me out of frustration, I was done. He'd gone too far and made me feel like my work there was done, so I left.
Last I had heard he went to another state for further rehab. We fell out of touch but weaved in and out of each other's lives through the years. I learned of his comings and goings through the grapevine and that his list of friends just got shadier every day and that drugs were a big part of his life. Something I had never dabbled in. Never.
It wasn't until nearly 10 years later that we actually caught back up and spent time together. He had grown up and I had matured past the point of caring who he kept as company. God knows I hadn't always made the best choices and who was I to judge him? Our magnetic connection was stronger than ever and it was instant. Instantly we couldn't get close enough and we couldn't get enough! We certainly had traveled down different paths in life but we were still very much the same young lovers from our early high school years despite now being in our 30s. The passion was palpable, the love was incredible and obvious to everyone around us. Unfortunately the physical connection couldn't last. This was no longer his home.
Sadly, he still lived hundreds of miles away. We relied on calls, texts, Skype and our creative imaginations to get us through each day. We were pretty good at it, we managed to be in constant contact most of the time. It was awesome, not perfect, but still very enjoyable. I got to witness his world, see how amazingly independent he had become, learn his routine, see what it would be like to manage his clinical needs and I spent most of my time staring at his beautiful face, amazing dimples and kind smile. I once again was the canvas for his thoughts, his past, his pain and joy. I had an outlet to hear my good and bad. One that cared, was interested and invested. He filled my heart, made me feel incredible, told me I how beautiful I was to him and how much he loved me. I loved him too.
When he booked his flight to come back for a visit my heart skipped a beat! I still remember where I was when I got the great news, I was beyond excited! He got here a few weeks later and we fumbled through an awkward hello. It wasn't long before we were back to completely infatuated, spending every second together. I was finally able to be a part of his life, even if he still wasn't living here. I was the one who he let in. I was his caretaker, his lover, his day. I got to share my world with him, where he fit in quite comfortably. They were the most amazing days of my adult life! Sadly the excitement couldn't last. The high started to wane when challenges arose. His home health care agency, his aging power chair, his independence, his mobility, his "fish out of water" feeling for sacrificing all the comforts of home to visit. He became frustrated as he started depending on others to do for him what he could do alone back home. He started to lash out which was hard to see. What would be a bad day to an able bodied person was just another rotten day for him. He'd been through so much. He needs so much. His aggravation built and his tolerance sank. I give him so much credit for holding it together for so long. He was doing amazing for someone that had a temper and had been challenged by his body for 13 years but it still stung.
As he fell homesick and our possibilities of a future together got cloudy, he withdrew. He spent every night he could getting out of his head. Something I still never dabbled in or endorsed. He once again enjoyed the poor influences of his shady friends and turned back into the teenage rebel that angered me so many years ago. It was frustrating for me and very disappointing. To help him through his heartache he looked online for new love. He did what he could to spark jealousy but just caused pain. Leaving him behind was not what I wanted but I wasn't able to be with him, I didn't enjoy it either but I wasn't vindictive. I had hoped distance would turn us back into friends and we could once again find happiness and comfort in our joy for each other's successes. He got a head start. He pushed it in my face, breaking my heart a little each day. It stung to watch him flirt, talk about love, talk about forever, with complete strangers who couldn't wait to be by his side as soon as he returned. They didn't know. They didn't know what an amazing man they were engaging. A man that had gone through life determined, strong, and passionate and they never would. The stories he will share will not convey what I know. They will likely never know the love that we have or even know of it. I can't blame him. I would never tell my partner that the love of my life had passed me by. I can never admit to my spouse that the he is not and would never be able to fill those shoes.
Part of me wonders if the anger and pain is the only way he knows, and if that is common of people in his shoes. And, if that makes it ok. I cannot begin to feel what complications his condition do to add to his emotional state, his expectations, his hopes and aspirations. But I do know that I will never stop loving him, that I will never forget him, and that I will always feel heartbreak when I hear his name. I can only pray that the band aid I wear over the heart on my sleeve will buffer the pain.
Ladies, be kind and be patient with him. He is worth it. He will love you like mad and treat you like royalty but when he barks at you, cries with you, and sings to you, know that you weren't first and that his heart will always have a past with someone who will always remember.
When love is lost or hearts are broken between a dev and a quad, not much differs from a traditional relationship. What does differ - greatly - is the stuff between I love you and goodbye.
I knew my quad before he was disabled. We were young, high school young. I was very immature, emotionally, and he was very deep but childish. Although I felt incredibly guilty, I moved on to another man without too many apologies.
A few years later I got an instant message from a mutual friend. Did I know our friend was in a car accident and got air lifted to a hospital down the street? I turned off my computer immediately and got in the car. I wasn't sure of anything but where I was going. When I walked into his hospital room I nearly fainted.
I spent almost every day of the next several months by his side. We had a lot of catching up to do, he had a lot of healing and soul searching ahead. There were good days and bad, laughs and tears, anger and pain, rough physical therapy sessions, sweet nurses, awful food, sneaking him out for fresh air in his hospital bed, and dark, smelly corridors full of beeping monitors and crash carts. When he was transferred to rehab I drove an hour every night to be with him. We watched "Felicity" religiously and talked about old times. I wasn't there because I wanted to be or because I was obligated to be or because he asked me; I was there because I needed to be. I needed to be with him, I loved him so much, and I would do anything for him. We had definitely gone down different paths since high school and kept very different friends. We didn't have much more in common than an extreme connection that had always been.
When he returned home from rehab things got much trickier. It was home for him, his parents' home, but not comforting. He was aggravated, agitated and frustrated by his needs, the lack of accessibility of the house and "the help", all of whom he was dependent on and related to. Our visits were fewer and further between despite the fact that he was now only 10 minutes away. His friends, who I couldn't stand and had nothing in common with, had taken over my role. They were now the ones he leaned on for help, support, entertainment, haircuts, face scratches, and meals. I was replaced and bitter. He was feeling better than before, was happy to have his fair-weather friends back and was a completely different person when they were around. He was now one of "them", a total asshole. He wasn't the sweet and open man that bared his soul and shared his heart, that was now only when no one was watching. I drew the line when he bit me out of frustration, I was done. He'd gone too far and made me feel like my work there was done, so I left.
Last I had heard he went to another state for further rehab. We fell out of touch but weaved in and out of each other's lives through the years. I learned of his comings and goings through the grapevine and that his list of friends just got shadier every day and that drugs were a big part of his life. Something I had never dabbled in. Never.
It wasn't until nearly 10 years later that we actually caught back up and spent time together. He had grown up and I had matured past the point of caring who he kept as company. God knows I hadn't always made the best choices and who was I to judge him? Our magnetic connection was stronger than ever and it was instant. Instantly we couldn't get close enough and we couldn't get enough! We certainly had traveled down different paths in life but we were still very much the same young lovers from our early high school years despite now being in our 30s. The passion was palpable, the love was incredible and obvious to everyone around us. Unfortunately the physical connection couldn't last. This was no longer his home.
Sadly, he still lived hundreds of miles away. We relied on calls, texts, Skype and our creative imaginations to get us through each day. We were pretty good at it, we managed to be in constant contact most of the time. It was awesome, not perfect, but still very enjoyable. I got to witness his world, see how amazingly independent he had become, learn his routine, see what it would be like to manage his clinical needs and I spent most of my time staring at his beautiful face, amazing dimples and kind smile. I once again was the canvas for his thoughts, his past, his pain and joy. I had an outlet to hear my good and bad. One that cared, was interested and invested. He filled my heart, made me feel incredible, told me I how beautiful I was to him and how much he loved me. I loved him too.
When he booked his flight to come back for a visit my heart skipped a beat! I still remember where I was when I got the great news, I was beyond excited! He got here a few weeks later and we fumbled through an awkward hello. It wasn't long before we were back to completely infatuated, spending every second together. I was finally able to be a part of his life, even if he still wasn't living here. I was the one who he let in. I was his caretaker, his lover, his day. I got to share my world with him, where he fit in quite comfortably. They were the most amazing days of my adult life! Sadly the excitement couldn't last. The high started to wane when challenges arose. His home health care agency, his aging power chair, his independence, his mobility, his "fish out of water" feeling for sacrificing all the comforts of home to visit. He became frustrated as he started depending on others to do for him what he could do alone back home. He started to lash out which was hard to see. What would be a bad day to an able bodied person was just another rotten day for him. He'd been through so much. He needs so much. His aggravation built and his tolerance sank. I give him so much credit for holding it together for so long. He was doing amazing for someone that had a temper and had been challenged by his body for 13 years but it still stung.
As he fell homesick and our possibilities of a future together got cloudy, he withdrew. He spent every night he could getting out of his head. Something I still never dabbled in or endorsed. He once again enjoyed the poor influences of his shady friends and turned back into the teenage rebel that angered me so many years ago. It was frustrating for me and very disappointing. To help him through his heartache he looked online for new love. He did what he could to spark jealousy but just caused pain. Leaving him behind was not what I wanted but I wasn't able to be with him, I didn't enjoy it either but I wasn't vindictive. I had hoped distance would turn us back into friends and we could once again find happiness and comfort in our joy for each other's successes. He got a head start. He pushed it in my face, breaking my heart a little each day. It stung to watch him flirt, talk about love, talk about forever, with complete strangers who couldn't wait to be by his side as soon as he returned. They didn't know. They didn't know what an amazing man they were engaging. A man that had gone through life determined, strong, and passionate and they never would. The stories he will share will not convey what I know. They will likely never know the love that we have or even know of it. I can't blame him. I would never tell my partner that the love of my life had passed me by. I can never admit to my spouse that the he is not and would never be able to fill those shoes.
Part of me wonders if the anger and pain is the only way he knows, and if that is common of people in his shoes. And, if that makes it ok. I cannot begin to feel what complications his condition do to add to his emotional state, his expectations, his hopes and aspirations. But I do know that I will never stop loving him, that I will never forget him, and that I will always feel heartbreak when I hear his name. I can only pray that the band aid I wear over the heart on my sleeve will buffer the pain.
Ladies, be kind and be patient with him. He is worth it. He will love you like mad and treat you like royalty but when he barks at you, cries with you, and sings to you, know that you weren't first and that his heart will always have a past with someone who will always remember.
