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writing is a form of THERAPY

Sometimes you can only wish. Wish for things that are never there. Hope for things you will never get.

But sometimes..

Believing will be alot better than wishing.

I wish.. Wish upon the Wishing Tree.


about Summer


Sagittarian . Cantonese . dreamer . emotional . Singapore . hugs . dolls . anti-social . soft-hearted . read . sleep . coffee . gelato . french . blur queen . cinderella . games . cute stuff . japanese food . anything white .


Maybe one day

i'll be back to tell you
我可以陪你去看星星


currently Playing

I dont want 童话, can you give me a 神话 ?

给我一个.. 恋爱频率

Tell me how do I live.. without YOU


my Past


Credits

Mini Romance theme by Beng Hafner

My darling cousin, the HTML code expert

eXTReMe Tracker



My Kind of Love
Thursday, December 08, 2005 9:40 PM

A friend sent this to me. The story makes me realise that this is the kind of love I am seeking or perhaps most of us seeking or waiting. The story touched my heart..

It was a busy morning, approximately 8:30 am, when an elderly gentleman in his 80's, arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He stated that he was in a hurry, as he had an appointment at 9:00 am. I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would to able to see him.

I saw him looking at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound. On exam it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound.

While taking care of his wound, we began to engage in conversation I asked him if he had another doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry. The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife. I then inquired as to her health. He said that she had been there for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer Disease.

As we talked, and I finished dressing his wound, asked if she would be worried if he was a bit late. He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now.

I was surprised, and asked him. "And you still go every morning, even though she doesnt know who you are?"

He smiled as he patted my hand and said. "She doesnt know me, but I still know who she is."

I had to hold back tears as he left, I had goose bumps on my arm, and thought, "That is the kind of love I want in my life".

True love is neither physical, nor romantic.

True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be.

And, peace is seeing a sunset, knowing who to thank.

The happiest of people dont necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the best of everything that comes along their way.