To see again

It has been more than two years since the love of his life, his soul mate, passed away. On the day of her passing he'd never felt so isolated and alone. How could he go on in such suffocation? Each room sat in its deadening silence where once it was so alive with promise and wholeness, only hours ago?

He'd received all the condolences and hysterics that accompanied the phone calls from those who shared his love of her. Her family and their friends. Though her health was slipping day by day over a long period of time, her loss should have not felt so sudden. There was a realization that he had been denying himself the gravity of the situation until that fateful day. While he was grateful of every minute of their 25 years together he felt robbed by the idea that if only they had met earlier they would have had more time.  The more he thought about her now, the more baggage he found hidden in plain sight in such abundance that he literally tripped over them. She was everywhere, yet she wasn’t here anymore and the profoundness of that fact was the most difficult to swallow. 

He kept expecting the pain to diminish with each passing day. It was evident that this too was a lie that everyone around tossed his direction to somehow ease his suffering like a life preserver thrown to a drowning victim? How does he go on when his whole existence is melded with their mate? After so many years together, he ceased to be his old self and became a new blended person with her. Now he only found that old person who used to be and his didn’t like it. He didn't like it at all.

It has been two years now, but he still founders in that sea of loneliness he martyrs himself in. He is so withdrawn from those who still call to see how he is doing. His brief and curt answers are intended to abruptly return to a silence he now embraces. Funny how things change, yet stay the same! The oppressive silence that he suffered early on is now his refuge. Everything he does now is as mechanical as his toaster or vacuum cleaner sitting in the dark closet. 

One day as he was sitting in the silence of his house, since he no longer refers to it as a home, he sees a little girl standing on his porch. Her silhouette was perfectly captured behind the smoked glass panels of his door. She did not knock nor does she move, she just stood there as still as the absent sounds within his four walls. 

He caught himself not breathing for fear that she will hear his breath and knock at his door. He has become so accustomed to the stillness and oneness that he avoids contact religiously. After a minute her little hand rose in a tiny little fist and knocked on the glass and shattered the silence he was safely cocooned inside of.

He continued to hold his breath unsure of his next move. Posted on his front door was a sign prominently displayed that warned salesmen were not welcome here. He knew she was too young to be selling encyclopedias, but she wasn’t too young to read and understand the gist of the meaning of the sign that extends to all strangers alike.

She knocked again, this time a little more forcefully. He was angry at the intrusion and padded to the door to edify her about the subtleties of the posted sign. When he opened the door he was met by the most innocent of lambs with golden blond hair cascading down her shoulders. This young little girl of no more than 8 resembled Shirley Temple, in her demeanor and innocence.

Before he could utter any word, angry or otherwise, she introduced herself. "Hello mister, my name is Hope and I am your new neighbor" as she reached out with her tiny little hand to shake his. He found he was so transfixed by her bold and cute nature that he didn't notice she was blind.

He looked up and down the walkway to see if her parents were near and found that she was quite alone in her quest to meet him and introduce herself.

"Well hello" he said, amused at her innocence in an age of predators lurking around every corner of the world.  He asked where her parents were, forgetting to tell her my name. He knew she was safe with him, but he found her naiveté a little concerning. Her tiny little hand was still raised in the expectation of the greeting not yet completed by his side of the equation.

"Well, Hope is it? My name is William and it is a pleasure to meet you", he finally proclaimed to her. They shook hands and she smiled with such radiance that his heart melted.

“You're blind”, He said. It was more of an observation than with any meaning implied. She giggled and said, “Yes I am”.  But even though I can't see, it doesn’t mean I can’t see your pain". He was stunned by her honesty and unable to remark. “It’s OK William, I've been blind my whole life but as you can see, I found your house” she said as a matter of fact.

Before he attempted another word, he again looked up and down the street. Across the street and a couple of doors down stood a moving truck and the busy work normally found with unloading. He told her that they should go back to her house so he can meet her parents and asked her if she "would take his hand" as he led her down my walk in the direction of her new home on my street. 

As soon as we crossed the street she broke free of my hand and ran towards her house skipping and singing without any trouble you associate with blindness. In fact, if you didn’t see her face you would have never have seen her disability at all. He walked up to her porch and the front door was opened to allow the access for the movers and announced their arrival to a half empty living room.  Her mother came to the front from somewhere in the back of the house and seemed genuinely happy to meet him. He told her that he met Hope and wanted to introduce himself because he thinks he has found a friend for life in her little girl.  Hopes mom chuckled and told me she has that effect on people. She explained that it is more a gift than a hindrance. 

She said that it was just the two of them and that she and Hope lost their father and her mate recently and needed a fresh start. 

Later that evening as he was sitting in the empty house he realized Hope does come in all shapes and sizes? That little girl had managed to break through to him on a level that all of my friends and loved ones were trying to do these last two years. He found that for the briefest of moments, he was not adrift in that sea of despair, but looking at the horizon of humanity that stood just outside the confines of these four walls. He smiled for the first time in such a long time that it felt liberating. Then out of the blue, he broke down and wept. These were the first tears he'd shed since that fateful day two years hence, but with each teardrop sliding down his face, he felt the weight of his loss ease little-by-little. The lesson I learned that day took a little blind girl to let me see how blind I have been.