The Promise: A Tragic Accident, a Paralyzed Bride, and the Power of Love, Loyalty, and Friendship (6 page)

CHAPTER 10

The Proposal

Chris
’s proposal happened when I was least expecting it.
It was July 11, 2009. It took a minute or less, which is funny, since I had spent my entire life waiting for that minute.

Before it happened, things were really shaping up in our lives. I had finally landed an amazing job working for the parks and recreation department part time that summer, and we’d bought our first home together. We had adopted a sweet yellow Lab, and Chris had finished his first year of teaching. It felt like it was really the perfect time to take that next step with one another, and I was ready for a ring. Really ready. I patiently waited, day after day, expecting on every occasion he would pull out a ring. I was reading into his every thought and movement all summer to try to guess when it would happen. On our four-year anniversary, we went to the 65th Street spot,
our street,
where we had first started dating. It was so romantic. We talked for hours on the beach, then made love under the stars, and it was amazing. At the end of the night, I was basically shocked that Chris hadn’t pulled out a ring. It was a setup made for a marriage proposal. Like a Hollywood movie setup. Yet he didn’t ask me.

Then on the Fourth of July we took his parents’ boat out on the lake to watch the local fireworks. As we cuddled at the front of the boat, he grabbed me and kissed me softly. I couldn’t even focus, because my thoughts were so preoccupied with this possible proposal. The fireworks ended, and we began to head back to the house. Another opportunity lost. I realized I needed to stop being such a girl and just let it happen. So I put my proposal obsession aside and went about my summer. I think he wanted to catch me off guard, and he really did.

We were at a fancy restaurant one night called Freemason Abbey, and after we finished our drinks, he got out of his seat. At first I barely noticed what was happening. He stood up abruptly without saying anything, and I was thinking,
Where is he going?
Then he got down on one knee.

“Will you be my wife?” he asked.

I exclaimed, “Yes!” I was startled. I think I said it ten times over and over again.

He pulled out a ring and said, “This is my grandmother’s ring. I will buy you your own when we can afford it.”

It was a princess-cut diamond in a yellow gold setting, and it was beautiful. He’d spoken to his mom and told her that he couldn’t afford a ring but that he wanted to propose. She had some family jewels, so they sorted through them and chose this one. He stood up and announced to the restaurant, “This is Rachelle, and she just agreed to be my wife!” Everyone clapped. Then we kissed.

Then Chris started to lead me upstairs right away. The restaurant had enormously high ceilings, flanked with wood paneling and a huge rustic chandelier hanging low. It had this zigzag staircase that led up to the balcony seating. I was so confused as to why we were on the move like this, leaving our table, but I was so giddy, filled with joy, surprised, and excited, that I didn’t ask any questions. I looked up and I realized both of our entire families were there! I hadn’t even seen them, but they had watched the entire proposal, and we were all able to have dinner and celebrate together. Some were waiting on the stairs, and we all hugged. It was such a perfect night. He took my breath away.

Sadly, many people asked if Chris and I would still be together after the accident, but even in the hospital that doubt never crossed our minds. We were deeply in love, and the accident didn’t change that. In fact, I felt sorry for the people who asked because it suggested to me that they didn’t know true love. It was essentially the most asked question. It was crazy. Honestly, if given the opportunity to walk again, but having to do so without him, I wouldn’t do it. Our love proved to be far more powerful than this accident.

I believed in love and soul mates, and I knew through Chris that dreams came true. But I didn’t believe everything happened for a reason. I didn’t believe that if I simply worked hard, I’d walk again. I hated when people said things like that. It implied that everyone in a chair wasn’t trying hard enough. That they just didn’t want it bad enough. People also said that I was so positive that surely I would walk again. Positivity doesn’t make you stand up. It’s like telling an amputee that if he’s positive and tries hard enough, his leg will grow back. My spinal cord was an actual thing that broke, soft like a banana, easy to snap. I didn’t have a disease I was fighting through. I had damaged my spinal cord. If you unplug a lamp, no matter how hard you try, or how positive you are, it will not turn on. I believed in science, and since I was still young, maybe when I was fifty someone would develop something that would allow me to walk again one day—even if it was only for twenty or thirty years of my life.

All along I knew Chris and I were supposed to be together, not meant to be. That was the only place I got confused about predestiny a bit, when I pondered why all of this happened, knowing there was no good answer. Chris and I were
supposed to be
because we were the right fit for each other, the perfect match, but I’m not sure if we were
predestined,
though the differentiation confused me when I thought about it. I didn’t believe I was
meant to be
injured, or predestined to spend my life unable to walk. That’s why it confused me a bit when it came to our love; it was the only thing that I couldn’t square because otherwise our relationship was so perfect, it felt like we were soul mates. I felt like I’d die without him; I couldn’t breathe were he not there. I realized it was hypocritical to say you believe in soul mates but you don’t believe in fate. It’s kind of convenient: Some good things are meant to be and bad things are not, and maybe fate steps in sometimes. There is a passage in the Zohar, a set of books on Jewish mysticism, that says that one soul comes down to earth but it’s split into two. One part goes to a baby boy and the other part to a baby girl, and if they be worthy, God reunites them in marriage. So you have to be a good person to get that other part of your soul. You won’t necessarily be together for sure, but your choices make you worthy of finding your soul mate or not. Maybe that’s the case. Maybe it’s not.

It was a dilemma I struggled with often beyond the question about love. Many people e-mailed me and commented on news stories about my accident, saying that it was “God’s will” and “Everything happened for a reason.” There are so many awful things that occur in our world, and I found it difficult to believe that any higher power would purposely cause people pain. I just refused to believe that. A horrific event like Sandy Hook couldn’t have been God’s will. Kidnapping of children can’t be God’s will. Terrible diseases can’t be God’s will. My never walking can’t be God’s will. I like to believe if there is a higher power, he or she wouldn’t do such terrible things to people.

I was raised Jewish, and I went to Hebrew school twice a week and Sunday school once a week, but in my household I was simply raised with morals and taught to be a nice person. At times religious people said, “Be good, so you can go to heaven” or “Because that’s what God wants,” but I didn’t want to be good to go to heaven; I wanted to be good because it was the right thing to do. So religion wasn’t a big thing for me, though I knew it had helped a lot of people and I didn’t begrudge anyone who clung to it. I didn’t pray or talk to any higher power or base my decision on any religion or higher power. I just went about my life as a moral person.

Honestly, more than a church, Chris and I had a place on the beach that was our place to reflect, and it was meaningful for us. It was the 65th Street spot. That night we started our relationship, we didn’t kiss, but the next day we went on a date to a restaurant called the Duck Inn. The restaurant was a Virginia Beach staple. I had had my prom there and lifeguard banquets there. It was just one of those places with a lot of history. We ate seafood, and when the bill came he paid, a courtesy I wasn’t used to at all. After dinner we went to our spot on the beach, the one where we had just stayed up all night talking. We put down a blanket, and I remember him leaning into me, and we kissed with the sound of waves crashing, the smell of the ocean making me so happy.

In rehab I looked back on those days, and I was so proud that I knew how good I had it. I believed, even then, that we, as humans, have the power to make something positive of a bad situation. While I don’t believe that “everything happens for a reason,” I believe we can give anything a purpose, even a negative situation. Good things came from my injury 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 uncle, my parents, Chris, all the rest of the girls, and Chris’s family were there—everyone brought great food, and we took over the multipurpose room to celebrate. My mom brought Funfetti cupcakes, which are my absolute favorite. There was watermelon, too. There’s a really great place in Greenville called Parker’s BBQ and someone brought food from there, which was a nice break from the food I’d been eating for the past four weeks. It was like we had a big backyard BBQ celebration, but in this little rehab room with Wi-Fi and a big-screen TV instead of at someone’s house. It was just as fun.

At some point while we were eating, we heard some commotion coming from the hallway. We all quieted our chatting to have a listen, and all of a sudden some senior citizens that I had taught cheerleading to came busting into the room. I had taken them on when I was the activities coordinator at their center. They represented our town at the Senior Games. They were in uniform and everything, cheering “L-E-T-S G-O, let’s go, let’s go, L-E-T-S G-O! Gooooo RACHELLE!” As I sat there watching, I realized that these women, even though they were forty years older than me, were my friends. My heart warmed at the thought.

Everyone clapped, and I was completely moved. It was so nice of them to do this. The entire thing was a true celebration with lots of laughs, and not a tear was shed. We were all happy to be together, all my closest family and friends. Chris and I stayed together that night. We spent the night holding each other and talking about our future plans and how much we loved each other. I will say, in the morning when I woke up, I felt a little sad. I should have been on my honeymoon trip to the Bahamas. I should have been running up and down on the beach in a bikini with my new husband. I should have been married. That was when reality hit me.