It has been eighteen months since I lost my vision. It has been just as long since I have seen the color green.
It has been a lifetime since I have gazed into my wife’s eyes. My heart used to flutter so when she looked into my eyes. I think I miss that most of all.
So much has changed in my life since that day two summers ago. So many things are different now. I try and tell myself that I have gained as much as I have lost, but it is not true. It doesn’t even come close.
I can tell myself that I have gained all the wonderful parts of my life that exist now, and I would not ever be lying. I can tell myself that I am better off these days because I am learning more about myself, from the inside out. I can tell you that I had to become blind, so that I could now see. I can come up with a thousand different clichés, and for the most part, they would all be true, but it still doesn’t lift the burdens that come along with my condition.
Condition? I know of one person, that if I told her that I had a condition, she would go up one side of me, and down the other, isn’t that right Leona? Smile. I will refrain from ever describing myself in that way ever again or at least for the remainder of this post.
When I lost my vision, I was awarded with little bits and small spurts of regained vision the first several months. I was able to gain more and more every day of my surroundings. Although these were very slim and small changes and improvements, they were improvements none the less, and I welcomed them all with open arms and tear filled eyes.
Probably the best gift I have been given since I lost my vision happened one day in early September of 2010, just two short months after losing my sight. I was out in the back yard one sunny morning with my wife, and our dog Deena. I had just put Deena in the pen and turned to walk to the bird feeder where Lynne was. As I approached her, I could swear I caught a faint glimpse of her face in the sunlight. I told her to hold still, and I approached her closer. There she was. The girl that I had fallen in love with. She was standing right in front of me, and I could see her. Not for long, but I could see her. The skin tone colors of her face were as I had always remembered. The outlines of her smile, the dark lines of her eyebrows, the shadows outlining her eyes and mouth, nose, cheeks, and eyes, and those eyes! My oh my those eyes. For a brief second of time that will live in my memory forever, I caught a quick glimpse of her blue eyes. They were there, as they had always been, sparkling in the morning sun. They were there, as I had seen them a thousand times. The same eyes that I had fallen in love with thirty years before.
I thank God for that moment of clarity. That snapshot that’s saved on my portable hard drive. I can pull it up and look at it whenever I want to. It will always be with me, as I hope so will she.
Another one of the best things was being able to call mom and dad and let them know that I could see red, or orange, or the chain link fence of the dog pen, or the Beware of Dog sign on the front door of the garage. Even though I couldn’t read the sign, I could see it, and it was wonderful.
The sky turned blue again, along with the Wal Mart sign on the front of the store. Whenever I see the color blue now, I call it Wal Mart Blue. It just seems to fit.
That blue color is really the only color that remains seeable to me now. As these last twelve months have passed, my colors have faded. The reds are dulling, the oranges are setting, but the blues remain, along with yellows. I still can see faint reds and dulled oranges, but they are not any where near as vivid as they were last year.
I still have yet to see the color green. Brown too for that matter. I guess they are set low on the vividity scale. Is vividity a word? Spell check please!
Well if it isn’t, it is now! George Bush has nothing on me!
I am going to hang on to as much color as I can, and will cherish any that make their way into my day. And for the colors that I can no longer see, I know you’re out there, I can hear you breathing! Just knowing you all are there is half the battle. The other half still lives in my mind, and it will help me to never forget.
How can I ever forget forty nine years, ten months, and four wonderfully glorious days of Roy G. Biv?