Life has a way of showing you, over and over again, that there is profound beauty in surrendering your expectations to make space for what could be. I’ve learned this lesson repeatedly, and each time life throws a curveball my way, I’ve become a little faster—not to dodge, exactly, but to adjust my swing.
Tyler and I met in the spring of 2014. He reached out on Facebook, asking if I wanted to get together for a co-write and jam session. We’re both musicians, and he knew of me through his younger brother Mark, who had been a friend of mine in high school. When I arrived at his house, I didn’t know he was blind. He led me into the band room, and we chatted for a good half hour before he casually mentioned, “By the way, I’m sure Mark mentioned I’m blind.” I was stunned—Mark hadn’t said a word. What struck me most was how little Tyler seemed visually impaired; all I could notice were his mesmerizing green eyes and the way he looked at me when we spoke. I realized then how little I knew about the visually impaired community, and that I’d likely never met a blind person before—certainly not someone so young and vibrant. Tyler was 29 at the time, and the reason he doesn’t “look” blind is that he was diagnosed at 21 with a degenerative retinal disease, Retinitis Pigmentosa, which gradually damages the structures inside the eye but leaves his irises untouched. Because he had sight for most of his life, he still naturally looks at people as if he can see them.
As we got to know each other, his blindness slowly became less significant in my mind. It was Tyler’s humor, intelligence, compassion, and insatiable curiosity about life that made it impossible not to fall in love with him. He is genuinely unlike anyone I had ever known. We laugh when people ask how we started “dating.” Tyler jokingly says, “Well, we went on our first date… and then our second date six months later,” bragging about how he “plays well from the friend zone.” The truth is, I wasn’t just being flighty—I needed those six months to truly process what I felt and prepare myself for something extraordinary. I was five years younger than him and admittedly intimidated, but more than that, I instinctively knew that he was the real deal. I needed to sort out my fears so I wouldn’t mess up something incredible. It was a period of letting go—mourning my ideas of what a future partner “should” be, releasing expectations of what my life might look like. At 24, my mental checklist definitely didn’t include “blind!” I had countless questions: Could he be self-sufficient? Would he be able to help raise our children? Could this work long-term?
During this time, I reflected often on a quote from Mark Twain that has guided me ever since: “Twenty years from now you will regret the things you didn’t do more than the things you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the Tradewinds in your sails. Explore, dream, discover.” One chilly late-November run brought clarity. I realized I would regret not giving myself the chance to be with one of the most remarkable people I’d ever met. Fear of the unknown felt trivial compared to the joy, admiration, and love I felt in his presence. Finally, I shared my heart with him, and we started dating on New Year’s Eve, 2014—the best decision I’ve ever made.
We have now been together for almost seven years and married for three. Our life is both ordinary and extraordinary at the same time. On the surface, we live like any couple: routines around the house, date nights, walks with our dogs, dinners with friends. But it’s in the quiet, intimate moments—late-night conversations, shared music, laughter between us—that I feel the depth of our connection and realize, day after day, how lucky I am.
I have the privilege of witnessing Tyler’s life. Despite incredible setbacks, he never complains, never feels sorry for himself, and never lets frustration control him. He holds himself—and me—to high standards, always encouraging growth musically, professionally, and personally. About a year ago, Tyler decided to dive into music production. He had lost the ability to use a desktop computer for several years, but he discovered adaptive methods. He enrolled in Zoom courses taught by visually impaired instructors, learning from scratch how to navigate a computer with key commands, then advanced courses in music editing software. I’ve been endlessly proud of his progress. As I write this, he’s at his workstation, recording and editing for a solo album coming next year.
Life hasn’t been without its hardships. I’ve accompanied Tyler to many eye appointments, where the news is consistently discouraging. His vision continues to decline, and now he mostly has light perception. With his right eye, he can barely discern the backlit numbers on his iPhone when concentrating. It’s been years since he could see my face clearly; even then, it required perfect light and focus.
When we first started dating, I asked Tyler what he missed most about his vision. He mentioned two things that stuck with me: skiing, his absolute favorite activity, and the possibility of seeing his future children. These moments are bittersweet. I enjoy hiking but often go without him because some experiences are impossible to share fully. It breaks my heart that he couldn’t see me on our wedding day, or when we were engaged, or the first time I told him I loved him.
Today, I am 31 weeks pregnant with our first daughter. The thought that Tyler won’t be able to see her as she grows is heartbreaking. But love has a way of transcending such challenges. We focus on what we can do: hear each other, share music, laugh, and cherish the moments that truly matter. He may not have seen me recite my vows, but he felt every laugh and tear. We danced to a song he wrote to propose, recorded together as a duet. While we may not hike together, we walk, travel, create, and share a deep connection with family and friends. Even without sight, I know Tyler will be an incredible father, and I am beyond excited to embrace this next chapter—the messy, unpredictable, and beautiful adventure ahead.
Life has taught me one unshakable truth: love, in its purest form, can make anything possible.
