Are you dead yet?
Filed in: Ed's blog spot
Ed the Editor's personal blog corner
A few years ago I was involved in a car accident that turned my life upside down. (I recommend Saabs, it completely destroyed the GM car that ploughed into me.) Although it was a bad time there were some highlights that still make me smile and I have dined out on a couple of episodes.
Picture if you will, I am living in a log cabin a few yards from a main house located smack bang in the middle of the countryside. It is a tiny shack and the roof and most of the windows are covered in vines. I am in a deep post trauma depression, not that anyone really knows, and I have been avoiding people for a few days. The landlady is very worried and calls by to say hi and brings me a cake. (I have been eating 10 donuts a day but don't let on.) She announces that she is going away for a few days. Her husband will look out for me. Oh boy, I can hardly wait. He is a very stand-off distant person by nature and I barely know the guy.
Next morning I hear this timid knock on the door and a gruff voice asks,
"Are you dead yet?" It was the first time I have spoken to him properly, it is the first time I have smiled in days.
From the moment he opened the day to say, "hi", I knew I was going to like this person. He sounded timid because he was, he was shy and introvert and quiet. And he didn't talk to many people because he was incredibly intuitive and didn't usually like what he saw. I was like an open book to him, and he could see what a state I was in, even though I tried to put on a brave face. We became instant friends.
An illiterate but artistic genius, he taught me how to paint, how to see, how to draw and how to understand. It was the most educational few months of my life, and in many ways I am thankful for that nasty episode, else I would still be a fairly closed book.
And if it hadn't been for the dire direction some medication took me, prescribed sometime later by a literate doctor, I would never have been able to tell another friend the story about building this huge bonfire and burning all my worldly possessions in a fit of drug-induced paranoid pique. And if I hadn't told him that, he would never have been able to make my new wife laugh so hard at my wedding when he asked, poker-face. "When do you think you're husband is going to burn the presents?"
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