A letter to a dear friend.
There are such people on our way in life. We meet them, we spend time with them. And when the time to say goodbye comes, we are leaving feeling that they told us a story about us. Find them, cherish your moments with them. And listen to the story carefully.
Dear Niko,
I am writing this letter to you having a strange feeling: I know that you will never be able to read it.
I remember the emotions I experienced the first time we met. It was on a sunny day in September – such a rare occasion in our beautiful autumnal Black Forest. I had just been introduced to the teacher and other children in our class and felt very excited: a foreigner barely understanding a word in German, first time in a new country, first time on my own. And you, sitting in the corner of the room in your wheel-chair, playing casually with you favourite brush in your hands. You thought I did not notice, but I knew you were watching with a corner of your eye, throwing occasional gloomy glances. What were you thinking? Was I just another one coming to disturb you from your dreamy world? I will never know. But you know what, I have to confess, however hard and embarassing this is: I got scared. Scared for my decision, for my future.
There I was: a graduate of a gymnasium and university, having read dozens of smart books and having such a high appreciation of my intelligence. What good was it for now? I was about to spend a year of my life living and working side by side with people speaking an unfamiliar language. More than that: I had to spend one year with you, and you could not even talk or walk!
The teacher seemed not to notice my schock or else was kind enough to pretend not to. She explained to me very patiently your habits, interests and needs. All I could think of was, “How do you even know? It is not as if he could tell you what he likes to do”. The other thought was, “What kind of work is this? I can do much better than that!”
It all looked very much different on paper. Equal opportunities, fighting discrimination, integration... All fancy looking words, strong words, important ones. Words that one easily uses describing own beliefs. But there I was, standing and facing the real challenge, the true life as it is. Experiencing feelings that made me ashamed.
Why did I not leave? I had given a promise. And I had been brought up learning that you have got to keep your word. Let at least the word “open-minded”, which I used to present myself, be true. No one said it would be easy. And so our time together began.
I learned that you enjoyed your meals. You liked to sit, avoiding energy-consuming movements, except turning a brush in your hands. All that not because you could not walk, as I soon found out, – you could. You were just a lazy guy! That had to change. I learned the schedule of your visits to the bathroom, during which I was to assist you. I saw you sometimes hitting the table with your head, which scared me a lot, so I held you tight and talked to you. I learned that you liked to listen to me talking, even though I will never know how much you understood. And you did not judge my grammar. I read Coelho's “The Alchemist” aloud for you, which somehow felt appropriate. But you did certainly understand me sometimes: you were suprisingly eager to walk quite a few steps when I suggested riding a bicycle. You were good at it, even though going up the hill had never been your thing: I had the honor to push you! I remember your fall when we got too excited going fast, and how scared and afterwards relieved that nothing serious happened I was. I liked to listen to the messages your parents recorded for the class describing your day at home: it gave me much strength and belief I was doing a good job. I knew there were people caring a lot for you and it felt good to be a part of something important, of your life. For that I have been and will remain grateful to you. I arrived feeling lost and thinking I needed support. You have shown me what a real need in this life looks like. You have shown me how strong I can be, and that there is so much to be done with this strength. You taught me that with the power, intelligence and health given to us, a great responsibility comes along. Life is not to be taken for granted.