https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001659/bio




What true love story do you know?

Christopher Reeve was so much more than the characters he played.

He was exceptional, having hit the genetic lottery.

He was a brilliant student and an outstanding athlete. He was kind and oozed work ethic, pursuing perfection in everything he did. Christopher Reeve could have done anything he wanted in life.

Acting became his first and foremost love. He landed lead roles in nearly every audition from grade school onward.

A famous actress, Olympia Dukakis, approached him after a childhood performance, saying, “I am surprised. You’ve got a lot of talent. Don’t mess it up.”

He later frequented the most esteemed theater groups, including the Harvard Theater Company.

After being accepted to a list of Ivy League Schools, Chris attended Cornell, and later — Julliard.

He was adored by his theater teacher, John Houseman, who was eager to see Chris’s career blossom, saying, “Mr. Reeve. It is terribly important that you become a serious classical actor. Unless they offer you a shitload of money to do something else.”

The latter phrase came to be

After a stint of leading roles on Broadway, Chris landed the lead role in Superman in 1978. He went on to worldwide fame, appearing in famous films throughout the 1980s.

Chris lived a life most men dream of.

He made millions of dollars while starring in love scenes with beautiful starlets. He traveled the world, dining with Hollywood elites and noble laureates.

And then he met Dana

It was 1987. Dana Morosini was performing in a small-town cabaret.

Chris was always a fan of theater and was in attendance. Afterward, he walked into the backroom to meet her.

She’d fully expected to meet an arrogant jerk, as one often assumes of men in his position.

She said, “The man I met was soft-spoken, tall, kind, articulate, and not far removed from superman’s alter ego, Clark Kent.”

She was caught off guard by his interest in her. Chris said he’d just come back to compliment her, but later admitted he’d fallen in love with her in the moment he’d seen her.

She was initially skeptical, knowing it could all be a ruse to get her into the sack.

He later called her and she agreed to go out with him. She quickly fell in love and their relationship progressed. They moved in and lived together for several years. Then they married and had a child.

Theirs was always a good marriage, not prone to turbulence and strife and the two were known for their public affection. They traveled and went sailing while pursuing their own careers.

Eventually, horses came into the picture. Dana had grown up riding. In an effort to be part of that passion, Chris began taking lessons.

Like most things he did, he went all in. He wanted to be his absolute best. He rode and took lessons 4–5 days a week.

He went into jumping — a very dangerous style of horseback riding and was doing fine, despite taking an ambitious progression in the sport. It typically takes years to progress into big jumps.

May 27th, 1995

The most dangerous accidents are often subtle and less violent than a kick or explosion.

Gravity can do great damage with a little distance and a bad angle.

As Chris’s horse surged towards a wall to jump, it panicked and stopped, (called “refusing” in riding).

Chris was launched over the horse. He landed headfirst, all 6'4, 230 lbs of him. His second and third vertebrae in his neck were shattered.

Seven months prior, he’d filmed a movie where he played a paraplegic. He’d spent substantial time around people with spinal cord injuries in preparation for that role. Every day, he’d left their clinic feeling grateful for not living in their predicament.

And now he was there.

Life sputters to restart

Chris laid in the hospital, completely immobile and powerless. He was waiting to have surgery to reattach his skull to his spine. He couldn’t even lift his hand to brush his own teeth.

Most don’t realize what nearly happened in the weeks that followed.

Chris was in heated arguments with his doctors. He insisted they pull the plug on his breathing machine. It wasn’t a bluff. He couldn’t fathom living in his current state.

He saw himself as a burden to those around him. He was also threatening that he’d kill himself if they didn’t.

One can imagine, after a life of such freedom, being able to do anything you wanted, with a budget to pursue any passion, just how challenging it would be to suddenly be confined to such a cruel fate.

Dana Reeve became emotional and sat with him, saying, “I am only going to say this once. I will support whatever you want to do because this is your life and your decision. But I want you to know that I’ll be with you for the long haul, no matter what. You’re still you. And I love you.”¹

She urged him to just give it two years before they revisited the decision.

He accepted.

He eventually settled into his new life and Dana stood by her words, and by his side. They still lived, did things together, and found ways to have fun.
They were brought together by a push to make the world better for people like him, starting The Reeve Foundation, and raising money for people with spinal cord injuries.

He said during an Oprah interview: “We (humans) are all one big family. This has taught me a big lesson about complacency. We should never walk by someone in a wheelchair and be afraid of them — or think of them as a stranger. That could be us. In fact, it is us.”

Yet, it almost ended in that hospital room.

Chris couldn’t move a single body part below his neck. It was a far cry from his days as a free-roaming bachelor.

Yet he and Dana’s marriage was as strong in the second half as it had ever been before.

Sadly, Chris lost his life in 2004, due to complications from his injury. Shockingly, and only two years later, his wife Dana passed away from lung cancer. She was 47 years old and had never smoked.

Their story is terribly tragic. But within all of that pain, their love was consistent and they were happier than many others. It is yet another reminder, to embrace the moment and the blessing of good health.

Rest in peace.