I am 85 years old, and Martin has been part of my life for as long as I can remember.
As children, the church choir was the center of everything. I was always there on Sundays, sitting off to the side in my wheelchair, waiting for my turn to sing. By then, I had grown used to the stares—my injury came from a fall at the wrong angle.
Then one day, Martin appeared.
He walked straight over and said, “Hey. You sing alto, too?”
That simple moment changed everything.
We became friends instantly. He would push my chair without asking, argue with me about music, and sit beside me even when there were plenty of empty seats elsewhere. Somewhere between rehearsals and friendship, we began dating. Martin never once made me feel different. My wheelchair didn’t bother him at all.
At 20, he proposed: “I don’t want to do life without you.”
Of course, I said yes.
