Later in life, I agreed to marry a man with disability — there was no love between us

to brew tea lightly flavored with cinnamon and a thin slice of orange, saying, “Autumn tea has to taste like home—warm, a little bitter, and full of love.” I watched his gray hair glint in the sunlight, his familiar limp walking beside me, and saw not imperfection, but resilience and devotion embodied in human form.

Then came the fall when he fell ill.continue reading …