Unknowingly, a friend has taught me the meaning of being rich. One who I sat not across but beside, on our high school class bench, day in and day out for a good four years. There was a bit of an interlude where we both ghosted out but life had other plans, we reconnected two years later when the untamable campus stage was set and never really broke ties since then. He's not the, "in your face" friend but is one whose friendship lasts. So it's a tiny bit safe for me to say, I do know him. He is the kind you will interact with and learn something on life, not because he is verbally spelling it out to you but because his persona is a teacher in itself. In high school I learnt on embracing being different and not ignoring passion from him the most, as he was the only one really, that genuinely loved to read and hold conversations especially on cause and impact in society, that the rest of us thought were too serious or way beyond our years and yet even when we got our sarcasm out of the bag on him for it, he happily deaf eared us and I have been learning ever since. Just when I think I have learnt the most mega lesson I will ever get from him, his character takes me to class again.
A few years ago, life so unfairly drove him to the low of the rollercoaster with a stroke. A young "old man" as he likes to call himself even though he is just on the third floor of life, who had a beaming law career, won international competitions on accord of his brilliance, had now been forcefully paused(keyword is PAUSED!). And now he had to sit at the table of denial, depression and stress, learn recovery, resilience, hope, faith all at once.
Now, all the little abilities that we never really care about like scratching an itchy body part, raising your leg, changing sleeping position and walking were suddenly things he considered dreams, goals and achievements. After half a decade thereabout, still in the fight that he is winning, by the way, he speaks of the blessings of air, sun, family, friends, movement that most have daily, he speaks with hope, faith, love, tenderness and gratitude for every single recovery milestone, he speaks of acknowledgement, affirmations and positivity. And all this speaking, through his writing because even when his verbal ability was toyed with, he found a way to be him, the writer, the expresser, the observer, the passionate and articulate one, as he wins his battle one day at a time. With this kind of hope, faith, patience, love and appreciation for each new day, you tell me! is there anyone richer than this gentleman?
So, you, on a diet out there! You, facing that hill that you have to climb! You, that has bills staring at you! You, that is allowing self doubt to creep in! You, that is struggling within!
Your crying is valid but what's your excuse not to keep going, one step at a time?
See, there is no use for excuse!
I'm speechless (the irony is that I have speech impairment)
ReplyDelete