The drunk driver stole my legs, my dancing career, and the fiancé who said he “couldn’t handle this.” The losses. Drunk driver. Accident. Losing legs—physical loss. Losing dancing career—identity loss. Losing fiancé—emotional loss. The man who said he couldn’t handle this. Who abandoned her when she needed support. Three devastating losses from one drunk driver.
I was 23, shattered, sure I’d die alone. The despair. Twenty-three years old. Life just beginning. And shattered. Sure she’d die alone. Unable to imagine anyone wanting her. Unable to see past wheelchair and lost legs and lost career. Sure loneliness was her future.
Then David met me at that Ottawa rehab center, volunteering with amputees. The meeting. David. At Ottawa rehab center. Volunteering. Working with amputees. Where she was recovering. Learning to live without legs. And he was there. Not as patient. As volunteer. Choosing to spend time with amputees.
“Your wheelchair isn’t who you are,” he whispered on our first date. The words. First date. David taking her out. And whispering—intimate, gentle—your wheelchair isn’t who you are. Seeing past the wheelchair. Seeing past the disability. Seeing her.
Two years later, he asked me to marry him. The proposal. Two years. Of dating. Of David proving he saw her. Proving wheelchair didn’t matter. Proving his love. And asking her to marry him. Choosing forever with her.
Now we have our miracle baby. The family. Married. And now—baby. Their miracle baby. Building family together. The future she thought she’d lost. The love she thought was impossible. Real and present.
Sometimes love finds you right when life feels darkest. The truth. Sometimes—when everything seems hopeless, when you’ve lost everything, when you’re sure you’ll die alone—love finds you. Right then. When life feels darkest. Love appears.
The drunk driver stole my legs, my dancing career, and the fiancé who said he “couldn’t handle this.” The devastation. All three losses from one drunk driver’s choice. Legs—physical ability. Dancing career—identity and livelihood. Fiancé—the person who was supposed to love her through anything. All stolen by drunk driver. All gone.
I was 23, shattered, sure I’d die alone. The emotional reality. Twenty-three. So young. And shattered—broken by loss. Sure she’d die alone—couldn’t imagine anyone wanting her without legs, without dancing career, abandoned by fiancé. Sure loneliness was permanent.
Then David met me at that Ottawa rehab center, volunteering with amputees. The hope. David appeared. At rehab center where she was recovering. He was volunteering—choosing to work with amputees. Choosing to spend time with people like her. And he met her. Saw her. Despite wheelchair. Despite amputated legs. Despite everything.
“Your wheelchair isn’t who you are,” he whispered on our first date. The recognition. On their first date. David whispering. Your wheelchair isn’t who you are. The wheelchair is equipment. Tool. Not identity. Not her. He saw past it. Saw her. The person behind the wheelchair.
Two years later, he asked me to marry him. The commitment. Two years of dating. Two years of David proving wheelchair didn’t matter. Proving he loved her. All of her. And then proposal. Will you marry me? Choosing forever. Choosing family. With her.
Now we have our miracle baby. The present. Married to David. And now—baby. Their miracle baby. The family she thought was impossible. The future she thought drunk driver stole. Real. Present. Beautiful.
Sometimes love finds you right when life feels darkest. The lesson. When you’ve lost everything. When you’re sure you’ll die alone. When life feels darkest. That’s sometimes when love finds you. Not despite the darkness. But right when you need it most. David found her at rehab center. When she was shattered. When she was sure she’d die alone. Love found her right when life felt darkest.
The photograph proves it—David and her and their baby. Family. Happy. She in wheelchair. But that’s not what defines the photo. What defines it is love. Family. The future that almost didn’t happen because drunk driver stole so much. But David saw past the wheelchair. Saw her. And now they have their miracle baby. Sometimes love finds you right when life feels darkest.