Many years ago, my husband was diagnosed with depression, and, all of a sudden, the originally harmonious household, got turned, upside down; my husband started wearing a frown constantly, became timid, depressed, and had thoughts of suicide, even. During that time, the entire family is on high alert at all times, every time when I’d heard my cell go off at work, I’d get all tensed up, ready, to drive fast, back home.
Back then, my eldest daughter was in the ninth grade, she’d felt, that something wasn’t quite right with dad too, but, to not affect her test preparations, I could only console her, to not worry, but, depression don’t get better without work, in waiting for my husband to make his full recovery, I’d gotten strained completely. And, out of expectations, my husband started becoming forgetful too. Several times, I’d found, that as my husband left the house, he’d left the keys in the door, thankfully, our apartment had surveillance install, that nobody dared do anything bad. And from time to time, he’d just, taken his meds, and, very shortly thereafter, he’d picked up another packet again, and, reminding him wouldn’t usually work either; or that, he’d placed something in the microwave, and, forgot that he had something in the microwave oven as he’d turned to get something else.
During the daytime, I had to work, the kids, to school, and, we can only, leave him, who’d on a leave of absence from work at home alone, but, I’d worried like crazy. My youngest who’s in the seventh grade thought of a way, she’d started posting notes of encouragements, of reminders, all over the walls of our house, “You’re amazing today!” “Don’t forget your cell phone when you go out, don’t forget to lock the door, and take the keys.” “We won’t be long, remember, to behave yourself!”, every word is filled with love, and, since, my husband forgot less and less too.
Because my husband had our accompaniment, our care, love and concerns for him constantly, he was able to return to work six months later, and never had a relapse again, for seven whole years, but, these love notes of my daughter is still, in every corner of our house. And now, my kids are all away from home, as we’d entered into empty nest, seeing all these words of concern from my child, we’d still feel that we were, very, blessed.
And so, it doesn’t matter what had caused this man’s condition, the important thing is that he’d made a full recovery, with the love and support of his family, that just shows, how families need to STICK together, in times of trouble, to help each other through, like how this man had the support of his children and his wife, that, was how he was able to make a full recovery.
The Face I Will NEVER See Again, on Losing Someone You Loved
That Friday, I knew, I will never, see that face again.
I was raised, by my maternal grandmother, when my younger brother was born, my mother dropped me off at my grandma’s, recalling how steep the stairs to the second floor was, how my grandmother would carry me on her back up and down, and I’d never forgotten how warm, her back felt, against my chest, and, maybe, it’s because of this, I’d felt this especially close attachment to my maternal grandmother, every single thing that troubled me, I’d tell her about it.
My grandmother was slimly built, her skin had lost its elasticity, but, her eyes still shone brightly, it’s, as if, a young girl lives inside of her, ready to come out, at any moment, filled her with energy. Every time I’d told her about my troubles, she would, slap my hands, told me, “Everything is bound to work out.”, this line, and her eyes, had given me the courage I’d needed in times.
With that sort of bright eyes, I thought, that my grandmother could live to a hundred, but, I was, wrong.
What crushed grandma was a serious illness, it came too fast, too hard.
As everybody was gathering in the hospital ward, discussing the treatment options, my grandmother who lay there, on the bed became especially thin and frail, with that emptiness in her eyes; I’d gone up to her, held on to her, and cried, but, my grandmother blinked, and, it’s, as if, that young adolescent girl started, dancing once more, in her eyes, and her face became filled with life once more.
“Don’t cry, you’re a boy, or, grandma will laugh at you, grandma’s just a bit tired is all.”, she’d slapped my hand, smiled, told me, “Everything will work out.”, the next day when I woke up, I went to go wake grandma up, and those eyes, they, never, opened back up again.
I didn’t ring for the doctor or the nurses, just, stared, at that face, with the jumpiness of a teenage girl, and then, there were, a few drops of water on her face; as I’d reached my hand to wipe it away, I’d realized, that the water, it came, from my own eyes, drip, drip, drip, the tears started falling down like rain, I couldn’t stop it, I didn’t want it to stop either.
“Everything will work itself out,” my grandma’s voice, seemed to ring in my ears, but, she’s a LIAR, I’d started crying, too hard that I couldn’t stand back up again. There will, NEVER, be a way again.
And so, this, is how a boy, grieved for the loss of his own grandmother, and, because he was, raised by her, that, was why her death hit him, especially hard.