SO: A ray of light this morning. As i stand at the bus stop, on my way to the local shop, (and wondering if i might have to wait until i qualify for a free bus pass), a small red Ford Ka pulls up. An elderly gentleman leans across to open the passenger door. I prepare to tell him that i dont know any of the local road names, as i tend to follow only one route. I lean down to speak... Are you off to the shop?, he asks. I am. ,says I Hop in and ill drop you off. Oh thats nice of you - but the bus is due any second., I reply confidently Youre welcome to have a lift - i like to be neighbourly. I live in the bungalow opposite you. Oh..well... thank you. I get in the car. Turns out he moved into the bungalow with his wife about four years ago, because she became too disabled to climb the stairs in their previous home. Last year, she had a stroke, and has become incapable of speaking or eating and drinking Every day, he drives up to the care home she is now living in, for 9 a.m. He stays there until 1p.m. He goes home, has some lunch, and returns to the care home at 2p.m. and stays there until 9 p.m. He has become, practically, an unpaid member of staff. They all know him, and he gets on with them all - staff and residents alike. And yet: There was no trace of misery, self pity, long suffering martyrdom, regret. He seemed... well.... happy; cheerful, even. The social life at the care home gave him relief from the loneliness he might otherwise have suffered; afforded him a sense of purpose, control and usefulness; AND he found a certain joy in being able to keep loving the one person he has spent most of his life with, and whose absence, he clearly felt from his words and tone, would diminish him. Even his humour helped him, becasue, he said (with real tenderness) since she had her stroke, hes been able to tell her every day how much she means to him, without being interrupted. All this was said with a kind of matter of fact, straightforwardness - and though i understood the offer of a lift was partly due to his desire to be useful, pro-social... it was the utter lack of melodrama, the lack of desire to manipulate emotions to elicit pity or sympathy, that made his tale all the more touching and moving. His name was George. I envy him his trials, and I feel less crushed by my own. People like George elevate the world, however infinitesimally. People like George add to the clear bright pin prick of light at the far end of the proverbial tunnel. Long may they burn with that clear, bright, crystal light.
Posted on: Sat, 29 Mar 2014 10:04:42 +0000
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