Road to Joy

As I watched them from the side of the stage an overwhelming feeling of pride bubbled up inside me. Here I was, in London, England watching my fiance perform songs that he'd helped write to thousands of fans. It astounded me that people all over the world listened to their music and felt something because of it. I was also so proud because it was the first show he'd played in almost three years.

As they finished their final song, the screams from the fans were deafening. All four men left the stage, wide grins adorning each of their elated faces. Brendon passed me first, I greeted him with a hug; Dallon passed next and we engaged in our customary fist bump, then I wrapped Ian in a hug as he bounded off the stage, throwing his small body towards mine. Wondering where my fiance was, I looked out on to the stage and saw him throwing out all of the drumsticks that were in the holster of his kit. Fans screamed, jumped and some even ended up fighting over them. When he began to walk over to me, the look of joy on his face was something that could not be replicated - only playing live could make him feel that specific feeling of euphoria.

When he walked over to me, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him softly. "Well done, honey. You were amazing."

He looked exhausted and his only reply to my praise was to press his lips to my own once more. This show was something we weren't sure was going to happen ever again. For almost two and a half years, Spencer's musical future was uncertain.

It began so innocently, we had ventured out from our apartment to go to the grocery store together. After stocking up on all of the essentials, we made our way back, when out of nowhere a vehicle smashed into the side of our car; hitting the front end and sending us spinning. It was simply the most terrifying moment of my life. You know when people say in life threatening circumstances that everything slows down around them? That's exactly what happened to me, I saw everything playing out in front of me much slower than usual, but I was powerless to stop it. Our car flipped over and knocked me unconscious. I escaped with only a few small contusions and minor concussion. But Spencer...Spencer wasn't so lucky. Although he had only broken his arms and there was no irreparable damage, his nerve endings were severely damaged. This consequently meant that his motor skills in his hands were very limited, and for a person who makes living as a drummer, news like that can be utterly devastating. And Spencer took the news pretty damn hard.

During the first few weeks, he was inconsolable, nothing I said to him would change his mind, he was certain he'd never be able to play the drums again.

"Jess, I need help in order to button my pants, how the fuck am I supposed to play the drums?!" He'd near enough screamed at me when I suggested he pick up the sticks again just to get reacquainted with the feel of them.

I felt helpless, when someone you love is hurting so much, you want with every fibre of your being to help them, but sometimes there really is nothing you can do.

For months Spencer had been avoiding his mobility therapy sessions. At first, I tried to make him go, but he resisted to such a degree I couldn't bear to put up a fight any longer, so I just let him be. Around 6 months after the accident, everything changed. I woke to find him in his music room - a place he hadn't set foot in since the day of the accident, leaving the instruments to gather a thick layer of dust.

He was staring intently at his drum kit and he had his stress ball in one hand, and he was doing the exercises that his physiotherapist has told him to do every day. Within a few weeks, we could see the difference, it was very noticeable. It was only little things, like he could pick up his cutlery without any assistance on the first try, but to Spencer they meant the world. Slowly I could see my boyfriend, the love of my life, reappearing.

All in all, he became happier, we'd do more things together; nothing that appeared special on the surface, just going to the cinema or to the park, but they were became special to me because once more he seemed like he was enjoying his life and not just suffering through it.

One day, Spencer came into my home office and walked over to me, shutting the lid of my laptop, he sat on my desk. I looked up at him, wondering what he was doing, he rarely came into my office, spare the few times he would come in to tell me how bored he was or to annoy me.

But this time was different, there was an intensity in his eyes, a fire that I hadn't ever seen reside there before. He took my hands in his own, something he'd taken to doing more often since his mobility was growing. Bringing my hand up to his face, he kissed each of the knuckles on my left hand one by one.

The sunlight that was streaming through the floor to ceiling window of the office glowed around him, creating a warmth that I loved. "Jess, I need to ask you something." He said before pausing for a few moments.

Due to the oddness of his prior actions, my head jumped all over the place. I had no idea what he wanted to ask me, the possibilities in my head growing wilder and more outrageous with each second that Spencer let pass.

"Well," he continued. "For a while I've been thinking about this, and I wasn't really sure if I was ready for this. But the last few months have erased every single thread of doubt I had. You've helped me in a way I thought no one ever could. It sounds cliche, but you gave me hope. To get my life back together and just be me again."

My breath caught in my throat as he got up off the table and then swiftly down on to one knee. He pulled out a ring box and slowly opened it. The ring inside was a medium sized band with a modest yet glittering diamond set in the centre. Simple and elegant, it was perfect.

"Jessica Rachel Allen," my eyes began to well up. "Would you do me the incredible honour of being my wife?"

I really hadn't been expecting that. Sure, Spencer and I were in a great place in our relationship, and I'd thought about us being together in long run, but I'd never really jumped from that to marriage. It was such a big commitment, but I surprised myself, I was completely ready for it. In fact, I wanted it.

"Of course!" My words came out slightly strangled as I tried to hold back my tears, before realising it was absolutely no use. The tears slipped out of my eyes as he wrapped his strong arms around my back.

I moved back slightly, placing my lips near his ear. "I love you, Spencer James Smith."

Without even looking at his face, I knew he was smiling. "I love you too, Mrs Smith." My arms loosened around him, so I could look into his eyes. The brilliant azure never failed to take my breath away, I rested my forehead on his, enjoying the intense stare we'd engaged in. For the rest of the day, a smile never left my face.

It took a few more months before he felt completely ready to get behind the drum set again. And it was agony. I could see the frustration in his eyes when he couldn't get the hang of the simplest rhythm. It would take him almost two weeks to master a simple rhythm, whereas before it would have taken him all of 15 minutes. I could see the pain written all over his face, I knew he hated the fact that his brain could wrap itself around a beat, but his body seemed to be 10 steps behind, failing him completely.

Despite the pain and troubles, he persevered, he got through that stage and soon enough he got back to playing the drums to his own songs. He had to physically learn Panic!'s back catalogue from scratch. Songs he used to know like the back of his hand, and that were second nature to play night in, night out, now became a chore, something he had to teach himself to do; despite the fact that he was the one who had written them. And he loathed it.

The next few months saw winter turn to spring and with the change of season, Spencer's recovery took leaps and bounds. His physiotherapist was astounded how far he'd come in such a short amount of time. He was almost back to how he was prior to the accident. He could play almost all of Panic!'s songs, although he couldn't play for very long as his hands would start to hurt then eventually start to seize up. But I could see the hope, I returned from work, as I dropped my keys in the bowl by the door, I heard, "Jess! Jess, come quick!" Immediately, I thought the worst and ran to find where Spencer's voice was coming from.

I ran into the music room and saw him sitting behind the drum kit. For a few seconds he held my gaze before his lips spread out into a smile. He then proceeded to play all of But It's Better If You Do. The song had been giving him trouble, and I couldn't help but well up as I saw him playing the song all the way through, without a single fault.

Once he had finished, he noticed me standing there with my eyes watering heavily.

He walked over to me, "Jessie, what's wrong?" His strong arms wrapped around me.

I said, "I'm so proud of you Spence, I really, really am."

My arms traveled up and combed through his hair. We stood there for a good three or four minutes before Spencer took my hand and led me out into the front room. He told me to sit down and he disappeared into the kitchen for a while. Upon his return he had two glasses of white wine and declared, "This is a cause for celebration. But I don't think either of us can be bothered to cook, so I ordered a pizza!"

A laugh escaped my lips as he sat down next to me. He pulled me closer, so my thighs were placed over his. I let my head fall and rested it on his chest. I felt safe with Spencer, whenever he was around, I felt like nothing could happen to me, I felt almost invincible.

I could feel him peppering kisses into my hair, and his hand was tracing patterns on my arm. The house was warm, and I was eternally comfortable, so I began to doze off. And as I did so, I heard him whisper, "I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you." Snuggling closer to his chest, I fell asleep.

Throughout the whole ordeal, the band had been nothing but supportive. Every so often, they'd drop in (almost every time it was unannounced, they were lucky we didn't go out that often) and check on Spencer. At the beginning, I could tell they all tried their hardest to make sure the conversation went nowhere near music. But as Spencer began to progress, slowly but surely, they began talking about the band again. It was late April when Brendon had come by to say hey.

The two men sat down in the front room, talking about whatever came to mind, when Brendon sat forward, moving from his sprawled out position on the couch. "Spence, I'm not trying to rush you or anything... But how's the rehab coming?"

For once, Spencer noticeably brightened at the mention of his rehab. "Well, it's actually going really well. I'm pretty much back up to scratch with all of our songs. Although I can't play more than two or three at time before my hands begin to give me grief." He informed his band mate.

"I'm so happy for you, man!" He clapped Spencer on the shoulder. "We've really been itching to play some more shows, but we don't want to do anything until you're 100% okay to play a set." Brendon said thoughtfully.

Spencer took a second before he replied. "This is just a rough estimate, but I think before the year is out, I'll be ready to play a show all the way through...or at least I hope I will be able to!" He chuckled.

"Well, even if you're not physically ready to play a whole set, but you want to, we can play a small show towards the end of the year. We can do a couple of songs then I'll play an acoustic song, and we can do a whole set like that. So you don't overuse your hands. We miss playing shows with you, man. No one could ever fill the shoes of the mighty Spencer Smith." Brendon got up and enveloped Spencer in a hug. The two had been through so much together, I think just the fact that Brendon was willing to wait, and he was happy to do so until Spencer was better meant a lot.

Throughout the summer all Spencer did with his days was the exercises with stress ball and the elastic rope that his physio had given him. If he wasn't doing that, he was practicing playing, he wanted to rebuild his stamina. The only thing he tended to leave the house for was to go for a run or the appointment and the rehab centre with his physiotherapist.

By October, he was ready to begin rehearsals with the rest of the guys. The first day he went, upon his return to our apartment, I saw the old Spencer for the first time since the accident. His smile was wide, his brow sweaty, he was tired, but I knew he was filled with joy.

Seeing as no one wanted the tough decision of choosing where to stage this one-off show, Panic! At The Disco (with the backing of their record label) had created a competition with cities around the world. The fans had been eagerly awaiting the return of their favourite band; they had been filled in on what had happened to Spencer because he felt he owed it to them to let them know why the band wasn't touring. But the first phase of the competition was to get cities nominated to be considered for the return Panic! show. Fans had to go onto the band's website to nominate their city. After the madness had gone on for a week, and the website had crashed a mere 17 times, the second phase began. The cities that had been nominated the most times went into a draw, which the band did live on a stream to fans around the world.

The cities that were in the draw were London, Rio de Janeiro, Dublin, Manila and Sydney. And, the city that Spencer picked from the draw was London. Fans from the other cities were understandably devastated, but with promises of a world tour the following year, some of the anger and sadness dissipated.

In the weeks before the show, the band practiced relentlessly. All three of the other members would stop every so often to give Spencer a rest and a chance to relax his hands, but he spurred them on, urging them not to stop. During those weeks, Spencer pushed himself to the maximum, his body paid the price. Every day he's come back and I'd ice his hands until he could move them properly again, and he'd be so exhausted that each night without fail, he'd fall asleep on the sofa while watching Family Guy.

But when we all got the plane across the Atlantic to London, all of the boys began to radiate excitement. We arrived a day before the actual gig because various publications across the UK were very eager to an interview with the band or a photo shoot or sometimes a TV appearance. The day was hectic to put it lightly and the guys were worked so hard even before the gig had taken place!

As the day of the gig arrived, soundcheck came and passed. The band waited backstage, while the support act played their set. It was during that period, I think the excitement subsided and was slowly replaced with nerves.

We all stood at the side of the stage, waiting for the techs to give the okay and for the lights to go down. Brendon was bouncing from foot to foot, lowly singing the opening song. Dallon stood to my right, playing his bass that hung loosely around his neck. Just behind me, stood Ian who laughing and joking around with Zack - Spencer on the other hand stood just in front on me, facing away from the stage. His fingers were intertwined with my own and he stood with his eyes closed. I rubbed my thumb soothingly over his knuckles, hoping it would give him some fraction of comfort.

Moments later the lights went down, but I'm not sure Spencer noticed, because he didn't move an inch. However, when the deafening screams of the English fans reached his ears, he visibly tensed, his fingers tightened around my own. I'd never seen him nervous before a show, and I understood it completely.

"Spencer, baby." I said, cupping the back of his neck, pulling his head down so it was level with my own. "Don't worry. Just go out there, play with your heart and your soul, everything will be fine."

He finally opened his eyes and looked directly into mine, his blue eyes boring into my own brown ones. "I love you." He said quietly, before shouting, "Let's rock this venue!" and running out on to the stage.

I smiled as he took his place behind the drum kit. Brendon bellowed out to the crowd, beckoning them to scream louder. Just above the noise they were making, I heard Spencer yell, "1, 2, 3, 4!" and they powered into their first song.