Through These Eyes: The courageous struggle to find meaning in a life stressed with cancerIsaacson, Lauren Ann
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Through These Eyes: The courageous struggle to find meaning in a life stressed with cancer
Isaacson, Lauren Ann
Cancer -- Patients -- Biography; Isaacson, Lauren Ann, 1961-1986
Norm, too, expressed his gratitude for the ability to release emotional
tension through discussion. Living alone had provided ample time for
solitude and the perusal of philosophical writings, but that aloneness
needed to be buffered by personal interaction. Norm was an individual
who required more time alone than did most people, yet he was not an
island, entirely self dependent and devoid of the need for others, and
though his employment allowed a degree of social interaction, it was
only the light-hearted, surface variety in which "closeness" had no
part. Our outings were at once social and personal, depending upon the
present need; that is, each meeting was not wholly devoted to serious
conversation, for that, too, would have become wearisome if depth and
meaning were relentlessly sought. Life truthfully has its burdens, but
conversation need not be added to the list; all things, I believe, must
be tempered, and lacking carefree banter and easy laughter, life gains
nothing.
With a full two months of my summer vacation behind me, I was looking
forward to a three-week vacation in Syracuse, New York when August
arrived. I would be spending time with Sherry, a pen-pal who had
evolved into a good friend through the exchange of letters. The
previous year she had accepted our invitation to visit Illinois and
accompanied us on a week-long trip to the Colorado Rockies. I was now
repaying the visit.
Ours was a unique relationship, but one that was understandably
comfortable. Beginning as pen-pals, we quickly noted the potential in
each other for the development of a lasting closeness and a willingness
to listen; these factors, augmented further by our great need to be
understood and accepted as we were, provided a sturdy foundation for
friendship. Each letter became a prize, something regarded with zest
and anticipation, for in it would be heartfelt troubles or elation, and
possible advice or consolation in reference to previous correspondence.
Thus, after two years of personal disclosure, we felt compelled to
meet each other.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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