A Canadian couple married. Nine months later, a pole fell on her head, causing memory loss. She forgot him completely. But he stayed. He courted her again, told their story, showed her photos, made her laugh.
Slowly, she fell in love with the same man—twice. Two years later, they married again. Same groom, same bride, brand new memories.
Love that survives amnesia is love that’s real.
They got married. Built a life together for nine months—not long, but enough to establish routines, inside jokes, shared dreams about their future. Newlywed phase where everything still feels exciting and possible. Then a pole fell on her head.
The injury caused memory loss. Not the Hollywood version where one moment restores everything. Real, devastating amnesia that erased him from her memory completely. She woke up in a hospital not remembering the man sitting beside her bed. Not remembering their wedding, their vows, their nine months of marriage. Not remembering falling in love with him the first time.
He could have left. Would anyone blame him? He married someone who knew him, loved him, chose him. Now he’s essentially a stranger to her, tied by legal documents to someone who doesn’t remember why they’re together. He could have called it tragic circumstances, filed for annulment or divorce, moved on with his life.
But he stayed. He made the extraordinary choice to stay with someone who didn’t remember loving him, didn’t remember why she’d chosen him, didn’t remember their shared history. He stayed and courted her again.
Imagine that. Having to win over your own wife. Having to tell her about your first date, your proposal, your wedding—stories she should remember but doesn’t. Showing her photos of moments she lived but can’t recall. Making her laugh with jokes she’s heard before but experiencing for the first time again.
Slowly, she fell in love with the same man—twice. Not because she remembered loving him before. But because he demonstrated, through patient courtship, that he was worth loving. That whatever qualities attracted her the first time were still present, still genuine, still worth building a life around.
Two years later, they married again. Same groom, same bride. But brand new memories. The first wedding existed only in photos and other people’s recollections. This wedding was theirs—both of them present, both of them choosing each other with full awareness and intention.
“Love that survives amnesia is love that’s real.” Because if someone can fall in love with you twice—once with no obstacles, once after forgetting everything—that’s not coincidence or convenience. That’s proof that who you are, fundamentally, is lovable. That your character, personality, and heart would attract the same person independently, even without shared history.
Think about what he demonstrated. Not just romantic persistence, though that’s part of it. But genuine love that prioritized her wellbeing over his own convenience. That understood she wasn’t rejecting him—she literally couldn’t remember him. That accepted starting over from zero, building new memories, earning her love again without resentment or entitlement.
And think about what she experienced. Not the tragedy of lost memories, though that’s real. But the gift of falling in love with someone twice. Of having the choice made again, consciously, with the same conclusion. Of knowing that even without remembering why she chose him, she’d choose him again.
The photo shows them together—happy, clearly in love, showing her engagement ring. They look like any engaged couple, excited about their future. Which they are. Except they’ve already been married, already lived together, already built a foundation she can’t remember. And now they’re building it again, creating new memories to replace the ones the accident stole.
Some people will say this is tragic. And parts of it are—losing nine months of memories, the wedding day erased, all those early marriage moments gone. But there’s something profoundly beautiful here too. Not many couples get to test whether their love is real by literally courting twice. Most people wonder “would I still choose this person knowing what I know now?” They got to find out: yes. Twice. Without hesitation.
If this story touched your heart, remember it when love gets hard. When you’re tempted to leave because things aren’t what they used to be. When you wonder if the person you’re with is still the person you fell for. He courted his wife twice. She fell in love with the same man twice. That’s not just romantic—that’s proof that love based on who someone truly is transcends memory, circumstance, and even brain injuries that erase shared history.