I witnessed Maris’ daily struggle with depression. Early morning was the worst. I’d wake, look across and see her, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, mustering the courage to face the day. One day I glanced across as usual and this poem came to me. I grabbed a scrap of paper before I lost it.
Her eyes are open
But she cannot see
Beyond the black veil
Drawn across her world.
She longs for the bright sun
To shine upon her earth
And banish the bleak dark shadows.
She longs for the gentle breeze
To lift the heavy curtain
That hides the good things in her life
But all she can feel
Are bleak cold winds
That chill her to the soul.
Maris found the scrap and wept. It described her situation exactly. She thought I had copied the lines from a book. I knew where she was at. I was doing my best to accompany my wife, to support on her terrible journey.
Extract from: No Way to behave at a Funeral.
Tags: Depression
Noel Braun 
April 28, 2010 at 8:18 pm |
Noel, The poem you write for your wife was poignant whilst clearly describing the depths of depression from the sufferer’s point of view. I’m sure your blog will be of comfort to many who wrestle with ‘the black dog’.
All the best,
Carolyn (Social Graces)
May 18, 2010 at 8:48 pm |
Hi Noel.
Many thanks for sharing part of your story with us. I cannot imagine the pain associated with depression, it must be so real and unremittingly debilitating for the sufferer. I wish you well on your journey, in the knowledge that whilst the fondest memories of Maris remain, she continues to share each day with you.
Bye for now.
Les