As a very young boy he had simply seen darkness. Voices and sounds that had no real tenor or substance yet. Nor did smells and touch hold any real telling, scented or soft clue at that early age. The pictures and scenes in his head were unfocused and undefined. It was a sad time for such a young boy, full of unfair challenges and a deep clinging loneliness. A difficult time, in which his hopes and very brief periods of happiness were buoyed only by a loving family and a few faithful friends. As he grew older though, he had learned how to create visions and sense life in a special light. He drew the scenes, created the actors and painted portraits of his loved ones. He saw and watched his entire life through his mind's eye.
He had learned how to see his wife sitting next to him, saw her warm smile and had watched her, admiring her beauty and grace as she would come down the stairs to go out to dinner. The familiar fragrance of her perfume as she got near to him, reaffirmed his painting of her. This was a woman who had met him in college and stayed in his life, from the very first day. She had not walked away all those years ago, stayed by his side and had never abandoned him. She had loved him and still did, staying with him all these years. He knew exactly what she looked like and how beautiful she really was.
Many people thought he had missed seeing his children make their way through life; their first steps, school, sports and proms. He had witnessed it all though, feeling their troubles and enjoying their happiness. Picturing them had been an ongoing project, changes and stages of their lives making up the great kids he saw now. He remembered their graduation robes had been the color and texture of his own making and he had cried with happiness at his picture of them as they had waved diplomas and proudly walked back to their seats. Most recently his precious grandson had needed to be sketched in his mind. This little one, who had his chin he was told and had sometimes slept peacefully on his chest as they listened to music. He had seen it all. All of it.
Thinking back, there was little to want or desire, he’d always felt that he had actually been a very lucky man. He had tried to have a positive attitude and be appreciative of what he had, instead of what he had not. He did his level best to lead an honorable and just life, be a loving husband and father. His life journey had been blessed with joy and he wished for nothing. He could not see those he loved as other people did, but he felt the warmth of their love, touching the facial contours and satin features of them, that gave him vision.
He could not see the shade of grass and wildflowers of spring, but he gave them his own palette of colors and smelled their fresh bouquet. He could not see the birds outside the window, but could hear the sweet chirps and he knew the hue of their feathers. What he had seen was what he had been able to create and save, and this was his album of life.
It had been a lifelong effort to collect and complete this vivid and vast gallery of pictures in his mind. And now, the paintings were finally finished. They were perfect, as he mentally surveyed them around the room, they were wonderful, absolute masterpieces. He saw only love and beauty wherever he looked. The familiar voices, sounds and smells that surrounded him in the room now were just the finishing touch. Yes, he had been born without sight, but he had never felt cheated, disabled or in need of anything really. It was almost time now for another journey, another life. Those gathered around him wished so desperately that he could finally see them there, that he could be warmed and comforted by their faces of love. He assured them that he saw them, everyone there, and felt their love as he always had.....Yes, it was time and he welcomed whatever awaited him there and when they would join each other again in a different place. It mattered not really, if he would be seeing them as never before or seeing them in his minds eye, and he drifted peacefully off with that thought. One curtain closed slowly with a whisper and another curtain drawing open.
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