text and image britt-arnhild
Heard on the news that 1 out of 5 retirees are depressed. The number shocked me and a list of whys flowed through my mind.
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I started my first job when I was around 26. I had a good education, I had two young boys, it was time to work, at least parttime. I was employed by our church to do deaconal work. For 20 hours a week I was to make life more colourful, less lonely for the elder people.
I had a long list of old people whom I visited regularly, and I spent a lot of time wondering what made them meet life so differently. Many of them were depressed and used me as a wall to complain against. Others let the sun fall on me as soon as I walked into their rooms.
Two very different lives stay stronly in my mind almost 30 years later. Anna was depressed, she had lost the colours in her life, and once a week, when I came to see her, she spent all the time focusing on her lonely life. Often crying. Always complaining that her family never came to see her. To endure my visits I looked around in her tiny appartment trying to find object from her long life of which we could talk, of which she could share memories. I never found any. My feet were heavy when I left Anna. So was my mind.
Edith took a long time to open her door, which was fine as it gave me a chance to regain my breath after climbing the dark stairs up to her tiny appartment on the forth floor. Edith opened the door smiling, sent me into her miniature combined livingroom and bedroom while she and her walker slowly went into the kitchenette to make us coffee. I was never alowed to help. We sat down, sipped our coffee and Edith started to talk. Tiny, like her world famous name sister, she took me to the huge ballet theatres of Europe. After a while she reached out for her scrap book, and very carefully she showed me photos of a young, beautiful dancing Edith. For an hour I was totally mesmerized. When I left Edith I danced down the many stairs, out onto the street.
I never found out anything about Anna´s life. I have no idea what happened to Edith, why a famous dancer could end up in this dark appartment.
I do know that Anna´s light place with the huge window facing a huge tree changing with the seasons, always felt dark, walls pressing agains my mind. I do know that Edith´s poor place felt like magic opening to Sound of Music.
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I am deeply thankful to both Anna and Edith as they both taught me the same, important lesson, though in two completely different ways - I never wanted to become like Anna, Edith became a heroine:
Live your life fully. Collect your memories. Share your tales.
Seek for the rainbow, never anything less.
After visiting Anna I knew how important it is to keep a diary. To collect memories, to enrich my palette. After visiting Edith I knew hom important it is to keep a diary. To collect memories, to enrich my palette.
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And the moral of this post:
How can I share colours when none can be seen?
Or is there a moral?
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