His body looked so fragile wrapped under the heavy blankets covering him in his wheelchair. His once vibrant face was now hollow and pale, illuminated only by the sun setting over the empty lot. Though he couldn’t move from the shoulders down, she still held his hand in hers, knowing that he’d be holding hers if he could.

Trying to keep her voice from trembling she asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

He waited a few moments before answering and softly replied, “Look at me, love.”

She looked at his weakened body, his pale face, and his gaunt hands in hers.

“Now remember how I used to be.”

She thought back to before the accident that left him paralyzed. An active runner, drummer in a band, artist and writer.

“This is not me anymore. This body is a prison that I can never escape. You know I can’t stand being locked up. The appointment is tomorrow at three. Pray for me then, and know that I will always love you. Please forgive me.”

She held his hand tighter and prayed for God to give her strength.