I like to think that being in love makes everything better. Even if you’re paralyzed from the shoulders down. It's like the light shines a little brighter through the windows in the morning, the ice cream truck that you can hear from a mile away isn’t annoying for once. I may sound crazy, I may sound naive, I may even sound stupid, but knowing that there’s someone that cares for and loves you unconditionally is the best feeling. Time is running out, I can feel it, but every second without this person feels like years wasted.

For me, this is my fiance. Her auburn hair resembles the orange autumn leaves that kiss the ground, her crooked brown eyes the same color as my favorite chestnut grandfather clock. She visits me every day in the hospital, and we talk for what feels like hours until the clock strikes 12 midnight, when visitor hours close. She kisses me, and she leaves. Just like that. I feel like all the life is sucked out of the room.  I feel bad that I can’t kiss her back, or make her breakfast, or surprise her at work. If I could, I’d jump up and hold her so tightly, but I will never be able to do these things, so I’m left imagining.

As I close my eyes for the last time, I can’t feel her squeezing my hand. I can’t hear the words she’s saying in between strangled sobs. I can’t even see the heart rate monitor slowly reach its stopping point. All I can see is her, remembering a better time when we took neighborhood walks and admired the fall leaves, when she gave me the grandfather clock for Christmas, our names tenderly engraved in the hardy wood, when I finally had the guts to propose. As the clock strikes twelve for the last time,  I say one final thing.

“I love you.”