A short narrative:
“How are you feeling?” I asked from beside my friend’s bedside. It was hard to see him there, so weak that it seemed as if a gentle touch would pierce his skin. He used to be so full of life just a year ago. And there he was, battling a horrible disease in a hospital room.
“Like I could run a marathon,” he chuckled. His head turned toward me with a small smile, but I saw the grief in his eyes.
I set my backpack down on the floor and sat on the edge of his bed. He shifted a little to make room for me and I lay down beside him. “Ollie,” I whispered as I looked into his light blue eyes, “you know I’ll run this marathon beside you, right?”
His hand found mine and our fingers entwined. “Yeah,” he closed his eyes. “I know.”
I turned on my side and snuggled up against him. It took a moment to become accustomed to the hospital smell that clung to his skin, but it would take more than a stench to keep me away. Love isn't deterred by a bald head from chemotherapy or sunken eyes from troubled sleep. It is steadfast and true to the one who’s character runs deep. It fights fear and perseveres.
So, I chose to stay. I chose to love.