Love

On Friday, before leaving for home for the holidays, I got to meet up with an acquaintance. A very close acquaintance. You could even call us friends, if you really stretch it. We got to talking about the holidays and briefly delved into my family's history, well...er, more like my mom's medical history.

Before I was born, my mother had contracted Polio. I don't really remember the specifics, but she was not able to acquire the vaccination in time. Luckily, it only partially affected one of her legs, but it still made physical activities difficult for her. And as she aged, it affected her more and more.

When I told this to my friend (I guess it only took me 2 paragraphs to upgrade him to a friend), the first thing that popped out of his mouth was something that I had never conceived to be a response. I thought he might fancy an "oh..." or "wow" or "that's got to be tough" or a combination of those things. But instead, without a beat, said "your dad must really love her".

Polymyelitis, also known as Polio, is an infectious disease caused by the enterovirus, Polio virus. It causes causes minor to severe muscle weakness and  with death afflicting about 25% of adults. The introduction of the 1955 Salk vaccine led to the eventual elimination of the disease.   

This struck me. I had really never thought about how hard it must have been for my dad or to what degree of love my dad had for my mom to stay with my her. It was always just a given. That my parents love each other. In that respect, I have been one of the most fortunate people in the world. 

For context, my father is a big sports fan. He might be quiet about it, but I can tell from the stories of his youth, that he enjoyed being outside and playing anything that had a ball or was slightly competitive.  

With all this in mind, I left my acquaintance pondering this scene: the moment that my young father had a decision to make, to marry someone that you love who has a known debilitating disease and sacrifice all the possibilities of the alternative. To people with no stretch of imagination, that would entail axing out of your life many moments of exploring, running around, and anything else you have to do physical-wise. You would always have to accommodate, compromise, and sacrifice some of the things that we take for granted. 

This is just a classic relationship story. A tale as old as time. What should you do? You have a choice to make. Should you leave or do you stay?

I can tell you that nowadays, without a second thought, most people would have taken the more selfish route. The route of "why settle?" and "there will always be someone else better". Who could blame them? Why wouldn't you want to have the easier life? But my dad isn't like most people. Knowing my dad, there wasn't some nefarious reason why he stayed with my mom, like to siphon her wealth, or because of some questionable reason, like out of pity. This isn't one of those day time soap-operas. But the answer was simple.

It was because he loved her. 

As much as I think that this would be a good Valentine's Day story, or a Father's or Mother's Day article, I actually wrote it because I am in a similar situation myself.  As much as my girlfriend and I would like a child in the future, she cannot. She has Turner's Syndrome, or gonadal dysgenesis. (I'm not going to a provide a picture for this one) And the similarities of the arguments I imagined my father faced overlay-ed itself over every conversation that I have ever had to have. "Why not have an easier life?" "There are plenty of other people out there." "Think of what you'll be sacrificing." 

Its no lie that I've struggled with this for a very long time, just as every other person would have. The turmoil I've faced internally was excruciating and sometime physically strenuous. But I think that its funny that God had always provided the answer that I needed. All I had to do was look at the example that he placed in front of me all of my life 

And to simply love her.