It’s an odd anniversary for me, because at this time two years ago, I was facing the prospect of blindness. I think the treatments were starting to work, and my eyesight was improving slightly. Still, the doctors weren’t willing to say how much or how soon I would see much of anything. Despite my best efforts to keep my chin up, I was daunted. I kept a positive viewpoint and did my best to keep my cool.

Since that time, I’ve made a remarkable recovery, and my vision is pretty good relatively speaking. I’m not blind. I need strong reading glasses, and my eyesight gets a little uppity in changing light conditions. It’s a minor inconvenience and not a showstopper. After all of that, I figured the only way to look was up.

For a while that was true. Then something much worse happened. My partner of over 24 years went to Scotland and died.

It’s been a few months since PJ died, and life goes on. I’m back to work, and trying to keep from losing my grip. It’s harder recovering from this than my blindness. When I was blinded, at least I had PJ to look after me. Now, I’ve got a whole lot less. I have nobody. I wake up in the empty bed, and go through the motions and go back to an empty bed. It’s hard to know what I feel some times.

I look around and realize that I’m alright. I’m physically fit, more or less, and my day to day comforts are still available. I have the little fuggers and my friends to provide some solace. The material world is good to me. Not having anyone to share it with is the issue.

None of this crap matters sometimes. It’s fine to have clothes, books, and musical instruments. It’s nice to have the freedom to travel around in my automobile, but an almost crushing feeling of emptiness infuses every other sensation I have. I can still laugh, but I wonder if it’s the right thing to do. Am I allowed to be cheerful? Sometimes I cry, and wonder what the point of that is. Is there a requisite amount of crying that needs to be done?

I think all of us feel isolated from the world around us at times. The tension between individuality and society is ever present, and irreconcilable. It’s impossible to know exactly how anyone else really feels despite their best efforts to describe it. It’s hard to talk through whatever rough patches there are. Words are inadequate, but it’s all we have to deal with our feelings in a concrete way.

We can deal with our feelings in the abstract I suppose. Some of us play musical instruments. Some of us dance. Some of us assume other personalities and characters on  the stage. Some of us create physical objects like paintings or sculptures. It’s part of the human condition to use a lot of different means to describe our feelings. Words are direct and the most accurate way, but even so, nothing we say or write can cover all the bases.

It’s like calculus. We can approach the right answer, but we never actually get there. Happy New Year everyone. I hope I have a happier year, but I sure think it’s off to a miserable start.

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