The Vow: The True Events That Inspired the Movie by Kim Carpenter, Krickitt Carpenter, Dana Wilkerson

to Albuquerque, I would be looking down at the desert as the sun came up ahead of me. The faint glow of the sunrise always reminded me of the glow that had filled the church when I watched the woman of my dreams—the woman God had saved for me alone—walk down the candlelit aisle. There, holding each other’s hands in front of our families and everyone we loved, we had both made a vow. The woman I loved more than any other had looked steadily into my eyes and proclaimed in a clear, confident voice:
    “Finally today is here, the day that I give you my hand in marriage. I’m honored to be your wife. I’m all yours, Kimmer. And I love you.”
    But she no longer thought she was my wife. She didn’t want to be mine. In the disoriented state she was in, she did not know what she wanted. I felt she had no more love for me. Just a few months after our wedding, the woman I had married seemingly hated me. And it was breaking my heart.

6
    A NEW REALITY
    R egardless of how my wife felt about me, I still loved her. And I was determined to keep the vow I had made to be faithful and to devote myself to her every need. Even though it was exhausting, both physically and emotionally, I continued to make that weekly trip from Las Vegas to Phoenix to be with Krickitt and encourage her during therapy. I had become almost relentless in my pursuit to push her to her physical limits. When I was with her in the physical therapy room, there was no longer any sign of a husband, just a coach.
    I knew Krickitt wouldn’t appreciate my effort; instead she hated it and often she let me know just that. At times she was quiet and agreeable, but the more I prodded her to push herself, the more she screamed and got upset. She was still acting and reacting like a child and at times was unguarded with her speech.
    The doctors had warned me that she could be very uninhibited, and there were times when uninhibited only began to describe her. I had to learn to expect the unexpected. Even with people in the room, she’d sometimes express inappropriate thoughts or grab me without any warning. Then when I would resist she’d say something like, “You don’t love me any more. You don’t love me because I’m disabled!” I have to admit that part of me wanted the physical part of our relationship back, but it was just too strange emotionally—at that point she was more like a daughter to me than a wife. Oddly enough, later in the day she could be back to declaring she hated me. When it came to Krickitt’s emotions, anything could happen at any moment.
    Krickitt’s doctors thought a visit to our apartment in Las Vegas might jog her memory of me. Her mom flew with her from Phoenix to Albuquerque, and my parents drove in for the big event. We were all hoping against hope that when Krickitt walked into our home, she would suddenly remember everything and return to being the woman she had been before the wreck.
    When I got home at the end of the day, Krickitt was friendly. But even though she had just seen me a few days before, she really didn’t act as if she had any interest. Her mom said that when they arrived, the two of them walked around the living room, looking at the furniture, the pictures on the walls, and the books in the bookshelf. Mary said Krickitt revealed no emotion whatsoever. As she stood in the middle of the room and looked around, it was obvious that she remembered nothing about it.
    Krickitt asked what her china pattern looked like. Her mom handed her a plate. Krickitt lifted it close to her face, then set it down again. “That’s nice,” she said simply. She had no remembrance of the pattern she had painstakingly chosen after a lot of shopping around and getting advice from her mother and friends.
    As I led her on a tour of our apartment, I would ask her questions about different things I thought might ring a bell: pictures of the two of us, furniture we’d picked out together. None of it brought back any memories. My wife was a