People say it's black. And dark. Everything is dark. But, it's more than that. It really is more than just the darkness that floats around me.
I've been in dark places before. One night when the electricity was out in with a storm outside. My mother would light candles then, told me to just crawl in bed and sleep. And by morning, the sun was rising, pouring its full glory to the whole world. And everything was alight.
I decided to take up an invitation and joined some friends to hike a weekend during my college days. The night descended slowly after the sun set, bringing all light with it. We all stared after the sun long after it's gone, taking in our surroundings. When we snapped out of it, it was pretty well dark. I can remember making out some dark silhouettes from the trees around us. I fumbled to my hiking backpack, trying to find the lighter to start a fire going. Well after midnight, we went to sleep with the sound of the fire crackling as it burned the remains of the bonfire.
Then, of course, I recalled the time when I was captured during a mission in Brussels. The captors were supposed to be our allies, but they put on a blindfold on me nonetheless. Trusting was not in their best forte, someone in my team had told me. They drove me around in the back of a car, led me to various doors. Until, at last, they let go of my arms and my blindfold was put off. Then, I saw we were in a small ordinary office. The man I was supposed to meet sat in a desk before me, an almost mischievous look on his eyes.
And, maybe, just maybe, once I'd even ever considered trying to see how it was like. I was mindlessly channel surfing on TV and my girlfriend was not replying my texts nor answering my calls. She was mad, I knew that. I didn't pay any particular attention to the screen, I can't even recall the title, but I remembered seeing the guy, in a hospital room, being told he was not going to see again. Then, I turned it off and five minutes later, I was driving fast on the street to her house. The guy slipped to mind for a few fleeting moments, before the upset girlfriend took over my mind again. That moment was when I thought about it, but I quickly dismissed it as quickly as it came.
And I've been in worse. Being held captives in Milan, for example. Blindfolded the whole time with a body that barely stayed conscious and brain that begged to give out. But, I held on. And the rescue op came in four hours later. Someone dragged me out and I caught the blazing orange and gold sky before I black out completely.
None of those experience, and more others involving darkness, are in any comparison to this. It was much and more than that, beyond any understanding of those who does not share this same fate.
It's the dawning realization that made it when I was informed what to be of my life that day. The full comprehension of the situation that hit me hard the following night. The effects of it all. To my work, my life. To me.
The understanding that whatever I do, it will not change. I can light some candles, start a giant bonfire, or simply open a window to let the sunray fills in the room, but nothing will change. Not for me, not for the benefit of my damaged eyes. I will see nothing. Not a squat.
What I had lost, it's more than just my ability to see, I think as I feel the sun casts its morning light on my face. A sign that it's time to get out of bed on a Saturday because I don't set alarm on Saturdays. I hit the talk button on my alarm clock nonetheless. It chirps back, "nine-o-thirteen", in its mechanical voice.
I start the coffee machine going and go to the fridge to check on the stock of my grocery. I check one item after the other, my hands read label after label and I make mental notes on what needed refilling when I make grocery order later. When the coffee machine beeped to announce that it finishes its work, I open a lid of my berries jam. I dip one finger inside and have to go far down before I encounter the soft sweet jam. I hope it could make for breakfast with the bread and coffee.
As I meticulously shaved my 5-o'clock, my mind called up the first time my father showed me how to shave when I was six. I sat on the edge of the sink, watching him. What I did until close to five years ago was more of the copy of what he did. Then, I have to adapt. An instructor at the rehab taught me a safer way to shave without bleeding myself to death. Two hands working together with eased practice and measured movements in front of the mirror I know is right over there. Though the use of seeing the result of my shave is replaced by hands, I never think to remove the mirror just because I can't benefit from its main function anymore.
And come to think about it, there are a lot of things I can't do anymore. Driving my car, for instance as my driver license is invalid since the day I was released from the hospital to attend rehab. And moving around freely and spontaneously as I like, not even at my own place, will be the other. But, I have made peace with them. It's the compensation I have to make in order to have some kind of independent life. Or, as independent as I can ever be. And it's hard enough as it is without me making chaos in my own home.