How Love Feels

Hello Lovelies!


 

 Following a new lady on FaceBook, Misa On Wheels, whose latest post has my mind 

absolutely spinning. There is so much I could say! This speaks to me as a disabled woman navigating a severely Ableist world, and as a "nearly wed," who would have been married 13 years this October. Michael and I would--arguably should--be celebrating our anniversary this fall by going to some exotic locale or by me making him my meatloaf:*( Instead, I don't even have a grave to visit, since his family opted out of a traditional burial and did not separate his ashes.

  

This picture speaks to me most poignantly for another reason at this age. My legs are not as 

reliable as they used to be, and my balance has never been reliable. In all likelihood, these days, I would have to be the girl in this picture on my wedding day. Would that make me any less the blushing bride? Would that make Michael an embarrassed groom? Should anyone feel that way on their wedding day?

In these divisive times, I always think of how like every other marginalized group the 

Disabled are. No one really sees us, just as they refuse to see so many who don't fit their ideal image of who should be seen with them in public. If I'm truly honest with myself, of course, I too am guilty. How many times have I walked past an unhomed individual of any gender, race, or ability and discretely refused to make eye contact? How many times have you? If there's someone from the LGBTQ+ community in my line of sight, have I stared just a beat longer than I should have? How often has someone with a visible disability attracted that kind of attention? And never for the right reasons.  Most likely, as with me and the question of gender identity sometimes...just sometimes...they stare one second too long. Children have started at me so long in public I've had to look away. Or smile at them so they looked away. It creates unnecessary discomfort in a group setting where absolutely no discomfort is necessary. Kids and less-informed adults should learn this lesson. Everybody is different. Nobody fits the mold. And especially on the most beautiful day of her life, when she and her husband are the center of attention for all the right reasons at last, a bride should not have to.

Her disability doesn't make her any less of a wife. Why should it make her any less of a bride? His 

disability didn't make my Michael any less of a man to me. It would not have made him any less of a groom, or a husband. This image is wonderful because it points that out. The Disabled are not just "living in the world". The world exists around the Disabled. I would have been such a beaming, shiny-faced, bubbly elated bride in my wedding dress. And no matter how I did it, I would have gotten down that aisle.

That is, after all, what love is. None of the constructs being bandied about these days make any 

difference at all. None of the differences thrown around between races, genders, or abilities have ever made a difference. And no one should ever feel justified in creating a big discussion around it. Or God forbid, creating violence around it! Love is love. Love is just two hearts walking each other through life. The only thing that can or should ever part them is death.





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