I watched a movie called Before I Disappear, about a suicidal man cajoled into looking after his niece. Their adventure through the streets of Manhattan eventually forces him to re-evaluate his despairing reality. He also lost his girlfriend recently and tries writing a letter without much success.
There aren’t many films that pull on my heart strings, but at the end, when he sees her in his imagination, I realized again how much I longed for memories of romance. It was only the other morning when I had a really nice dream. I don’t get those very often, but dreamed of being with someone who loved me. In the late afternoon, she placed her head upon my left shoulder and I placed mine upon her head. I finally slept for once, for real…
Funny, how I had to dream to fall asleep. I awoke happy, only to realize that I lost my love all over again. I hope that if a girl ever swept me off my wheels, she’d run to me.
So when my sister yelled at me to give up on love, I was absolutely infuriated. That weekend, she visited with the kids. I was in my wheelchair and she asked if anything bothered me, or caused stress in my life. I explained that I was lonely, as usual, and still seeking a romantic relationship. It was then that she started her rampage, blaming my declining health on my hope. She kept insisting that I put it in the hands of God, except with this disease, I already depended on Him for everything. I can’t even breathe without a machine.
“You’re killing our mother.” she stated.
It was surreal, what she said to me, especially when she knew that I didn’t have much left. I can hardly eat anymore and hope is the one thing keeping me alive. However, she kept at it. I tried ignoring her, but she wouldn’t stop. A few minutes later, she was still berating me and I couldn’t help myself. I was hysterical because I couldn’t walk away or defend myself verbally, while my heart was beating so hard that breathing became nearly impossible. I cried and begged her to leave, swearing a couple times out of sheer frustration, but she couldn’t care less.
When she finally ran out of time, she walked to my other door next to the kitchen and proceeded to talk down on me to mother so I could hear about how selfish I was being. I didn’t want to hate my own flesh and blood. I could have said some nasty things, but chose otherwise.
Though romance will probably remain out of my grasp unto my dying breath, having a source of motivation is a significant part of who we are. Owning a reason to continue, no matter how unrealistic it looks on the outside, makes us human. My sister ended up being wrong as the doctor discovered that my potassium levels were dangerously low, causing many ill effects to my heart function.
People lose loved ones all the time. I don’t even have a memory of it. I refuse to sacrifice my hopes and dreams, despite the aforementioned harassment from people I’m supposed to care for. Love is always worth more.