I can’t begin to express how deeply I love my husband, Frank Tripp. It wasn’t something dramatic or pre-planned — it was simply his heart in action, in a moment when anyone could have looked the other way.
We had just left the Fresno VA hospital. I was feeling tired after my appointment. The sky was quiet, the roads not too busy, and we were in the car, talking about small things — the appointment, errands, what to fix for dinner. Frank was driving us home.
Then, something caught his eye. Across the road, on the opposite curb, a man sat alone in his wheelchair. I couldn’t tell at first what was wrong. But as we got closer, I saw the motor drive (the powered mechanism that helps the wheelchair move) had apparently come off. The man was stranded. Helpless. No one seemed to notice. Cars kept going. Pedestrians walked past. But Frank did something different.
He instinctively pulled the wheel — or rather, he made a sharp U-turn. I remember my heart pounding a little: “What is he doing?” I wondered. He parked the car safely, and without hesitation, walked across the road, toward the man. He crouched, picked up the motor drive piece, examined it. It looked heavy, awkward, delicate. He worked it back into place. He rolled the wheelchair, checking that the drive engaged. And then, as fast as the crisis had appeared, it was resolved: the man was moving again. Rolling forward, free to continue on. Not by himself — but again, not trapped, not abandoned.
Inside the car, I sat stunned, moved. Because this was not just about helping someone. It was about empathy. It was about seeing another person’s need, without worrying whether someone else would step in. It was about kindness, humility. As Frank walked back to the car, I watched him, thinking of all the times he quietly does things like this — holding the door, staying late to help a neighbor, listening when someone needs a friend. I thought about how love for someone is built not just in grand gestures, but in everyday choices.
That evening, as we drove home in silence, I felt this warm rush of admiration and gratitude. I felt so proud to be married to a man who doesn’t wait for applause. Who acts because it is right. Who understands that sometimes, what you do for a stranger matters more than what you do for people who already expect something from you.
I came into our home with a heart full of love. I told him later: “You remind me of everything good in people.” And I meant it. Because in that moment, his compassion showed me once more that love really isn’t just a feeling. It’s the decision to do something when doing nothing would be easier.