Let's talk about love. Not the fairy-tale kind or empty platitudes, but real love, and real stories. Robert Fulghum (of "All I Really Needed to Know I Learned In Kindergarten" fame) asked for real stories, and this was one of them. From "True Love":
A very old man - George - who had been placed in a nursing home by his family was a sad case - nobody ever came to see him. One day he stopped talking and refused to leave his room. He was cooperative enough with the staff and functional enough to take care of himself. He continued to eat and bathe. But he became a mute recluse, sitting alone in his room in in his rocking chair all day staring out the window. The staff decided he had a right to live as he wished, so they let him be.
A woman resident - Maggie - had taken an interest in George, and when he disappeared she went in to visit with him...
He didn't seem to mind, but he didn't respond, either. She had started working on a quilt and over time she moved her handiwork little by little into his room. She spent her days sweing and telling her life story, while he was staring out the window She had been in vaudeville. She had a million stories and was very happy to have someone listen to her. Nobody knew what he thought. He sat and stared. She talked. Months went by.
When Maggie finished the quilt, it was put on display in the main lobby of the nursing home, Everybody said it was one of the most beautiful quilts they ever saw. She was especially proud since it was the only quilt she had ever made.
The same week the quilt was finished, George passed away.
In the drawer of his nightstand the staff found an envelope marked "To be opened when I die". The note inside said only "Tell Maggie I love her."
When they told her, she cried as if her heart would break. She had loved him, too. She had made the quilt just for him.
And that's why George was buried wrapped in Maggie's quilt.
DON'T. WAIT.
As you can see by looking at our category archives list in the right-hand column, love will be getting more coverage here. If you have a true story for us about love, we may have a Guest Blog spot (attributed or anonymously) here at Winds of Change.NET. Drop me an email via joe at windsofchange dot net, and give me a quick synopsis plus a way to contact you.
I hardly know what to say to that story. Amazing.
I'm not sure that my example is A: the best one, or B: the kind you're looking for, but...
My wife has had a seizure disorder for about 4 years now. It goes from bad to tolerable. SOme days we almost seem like nothing is wrong, other days are horrifying. One day, August 12, 2000 to be exact, we ended up in the emergency room. She had trouble breathing and had been havig waves of seizures for hours. She;s severely allergic to certain meds, and Flourescent lights at teh time were triggering seizures in her, and I needed to tell the ER staff these two simple pieces of information. They literally refused to listen to me, I could not get the sentences out before a team of women were yelling at me to get out. I kept trying to say "Look, I just have to tell you..." but they were unbelievably adamant about not hearing a word I said and getting me out of teh room. I'm not stupd, I know I would be in the way, and I wanted to leave so they could help her, but I was not about to leave until I had said these two things that I know they needed to hear.
This went on for a few minutes, and I'm not embellishing here; They literally cut me off when I spoke and yelled above me. I could hardly believe this was happening. I'm a pretty big, loud, and sometimes intimidating guyl, so I squared up and just yelled "IF YOU WANT ME OUT YOU BETTER CALL A COP."
They did. Two dense muscle-bound off-duty cops working security. They entered the doorway, and like a scene from a movie, one of them raised one hand and snapped a rubber glove on with the other. He looked at me and said "Easy or hard, you;re coming out."
I looked at him and said "Not until I tell you two short pieces of info about this patient."
They moved in. I raised my hands. I was about to go two-on-one with a couple of gym rats, because I'm telling you righ now, no one was going to cause my wife any ADDITIONAL harm on that day. They were going to hear me out.
One of the doctors and a nurse were quietly tending to Donna the whole time, and had gotten her somewhat situated and able to speak. She said soemthing to the nurse, who asked the two meatballs to hold on, and she leaned in and spoke very quietly and calmly, and asked me if I would consider just stepping out, because this was not going to be good for my wife. I said, very quietly to her, I just wanted to tell you, the flourescent lights in here are going to trigger wave after wave of these, so if you could turn then off or dim them or just cover her eyes, that would help, and she's allergic to (a short list of meds)." She nodded, said she'd take care of here and that I should go. DOnna managed to gasp out "It's OK, go, it's OK."
So I went. Glaring at the two meatballs the whole time. Who promptly stood in the waiting area (and outside my wife's room when I was finally allowed back in) the entire time we were there, about 8 hours.
I would have taken the world's biggest ass-kicking that day, and I would do it again in a heartbeat just to give someone a few simple sentences if it meant that my wife could feel a little better. Four years later? I'd fight 4 guys now, knowing how these past years have affected our lives. Anything I can do to make her feel a little bit better is more than it's own reward, and volumes less than she deserves.
One can never know if A is true... but this is definitely B - a real love story. Next week's feature, too.