Lights Out

I glanced across at him, noting his kindly face and gentle smile, reserved, not pushing himself forward but attentive to his wife’s conversation, and reminding me suddenly of a friend. In former times my friend was just such a man as this, with a lively sense of fun, a zest for living and a lot of wisdom about our time on earth, how to enjoy the moment and seize the day. Sadly, at this present time, my friend is a shadow of his former self, immersed in a deep depression, inattentive to his wife’s grief, and unaware of the joys and possibilities of the present moment.

 

We moved on from the cafe, strolled through pleasant gardens and seated ourselves on a bench to enjoy the view. Again, my attention was drawn to my companions in this lovely setting, a couple enjoying the gardens, him on foot, her in a wheelchair, pointing out flowers in the border that took her fancy, as he pushed her along the grass. As they passed us she greeted us cheerfully, a smile on her face, and we exchanged joyful appreciation of the lovely garden and the warm summer weather. She was enjoying herself, despite her obvious disabilities – enjoying the sunshine, the flowers, the fresh air and her husband’s company.

And my friend? He enjoys nothing. He may recover. I hope for his sake and for his family that he does. I hope at some point the mists will clear and he will see life clearly again, as it is, full of light and shade, good and bad, but for all its trials, worth living and offering hope and possibilities. Like the lady in the wheelchair, he will be able to enjoy at least his partial good fortune and the good things in his life. A physical sickness, a deformity, a sensory limitation, or a disability is a sad thing, limiting our enjoyment. But a depression is a terrible affliction, turning out the light and wiping the memory clean that once knew how to turn it on again.