After the Storm

A few life times ago I had the privilege to work in a residential program for military men with PTSD. This program was an intense counseling program for those struggled with what they experienced in Vietnam, specifically. My job was to occupy them during their down time teaching them woodworking, leatherworking and metal forming. For some reason another class was added to my roster and this class consisted of acute psychotic care cases, most of these men were permanent residents suffering schizophrenia and other mental illnesses but occasionally they would get a suicide attempt. It would be during this class that I would hear one of the most amazing life stories ever.

As my class began to pour into the room I noticed a nurse assisting a rather small young man that was engaged in a conversation with her and laughing. It was obvious that this man was blind. Bewildered, I look at the nurse with a question mark crossing my face. She could tell I was wondering why she was bringing a blind man to an art class and offered, “He wanted to come and he knows what your class is about.” With that the man said, ”Actually, I want to learn how to under water basket weave.” He told me his name was Daniel and that he’d been there for weeks recovering after leaving the hospital and mentioned that it got lonely on the floor when all the other guys came to my class so he just wanted to hang out with them.

The nurse took Daniel to a seat while I got the class started on their projects. He had a very happy disposition and an endearing personality. Physically, Daniel was missing an eye and the right side of his forehead was caved in drastically as if part of his skull had been removed. It was obvious that blunt force trauma had been used on him. With everyone working I went over and sat next to Daniel and told him that I had to make a file on everyone that comes to my class so needed some information. After getting the file started Daniel asked if I wanted to hear his story and I told him that I was not part of the medical staff so he was not required to disclose, but, if he wanted to tell me anyway, I would love to hear it.

In all of his 24 year old wisdom he said that he had joined the military right out of High School to get away from his abusive father but soon decided that the military life was not for him and got out when his first tour of duty was up. Upon returning home his father told him that he had enrolled Daniel into college and selected all of the classes he would be needing to begin his degree program for engineering like his father, mother and older brother had done before him. But Daniel didn’t want to be an engineer, he wanted to study art. The argument that followed was brutal. His father was a tyrant, banging his fists and screaming at how useless art was and that he’d not pay for any son of his to waste his life that way. The line in the sand was drawn.  If he studied art, he would be kicked out of the house and all support severed. “My father has been abusive and mean my entire life”, he told me. With no options and his tail between his legs, Daniel relented.

College bought him no breathing room from his father. Daniel’s dad insisted on micromanaging his time which left no room for fun or making college friendships.  Daniel hated everything that had to do with engineering and hated his father more. He struggled with each class making disastrous grades and then heard about how terrific failure he was nonstop.

 Daniel was different. He was a soft spoken man. I could see how a bullying father would get away with running roughshod right over the top of him. He spoke like a poet and I imagined him in loft somewhere sitting attentively with an enormous half painted canvass lost in his expression and listening to classical music with his hands stopping periodically to orchestrate the symphony. This man was not an engineer and wasn’t even like any of the ex-soldiers that filled the empty seats.

It was four days before Daniel would be graduating with a degree he never wanted. He was in his room playing the slideshow of his entire life and adding the new ones that would soon be coming. The more he added the more he could see he would never have the backbone to stand up to his father and would forever be stuck in a life he loathed. There was only one thing to do.

The gun store was across town from the college but Daniel doesn’t remember the drive, he did remember the nice clerk who seemed to enjoy talking to him about the pistol he was about to buy. The clerk offered to teach him how to safely use the gun which Daniel thought was amusing at the time but assured the clerk he was familiar enough with it. Daniel thanked the clerk, paid for the gun and left. His family was to arrive the next day to help him with packing so time was running out to get this over with. Daniel thought to himself that he needed to find a place not too far from a road so that his body could be found. He pulled off the main road and was driving in the country when he spotted a place. Daniel got out of his car and began walking into the woods when unexpectedly came into a clearing. “It was beautiful”, he said. “There was a pond that was so still that morning and I saw a family ducks floating as if in slow motion and deer walking across the way”. Daniel sat down and began thinking again. Soon the beauty faded and the reason for his being in the woods took up the space around him.

He raised the gun to his temple, took a deep breath and squeezed. Daniel isn’t sure how long he lay in the grass but he did remember hearing the birds singing and feeling the sun warming his face as he slowly regained consciousness and realized he was blind. He laughed halfheartedly to himself and said, “I can’t even kill myself right … who’s gonna hire a blind engineer?” The question came back to him like a boomerang. “Who IS going to want to hire a blind engineer?” He realized that he couldn’t be an engineer any longer. That thought elated Daniel! The will to live began to grow and he sat up to orient himself to which direction the road would be in. “I’m sure it didn’t take hours but it felt like it with me crawling on my belly all the way out of there”, he said. Finally Daniel reached the gravel and could tell he was lying by the roadside.

The next thing he remembers is waking up in the hospital to someone crying. A strong calloused hand had a hold of his and he squeezed the back. It was Daniel’s father. Daniel chocked up as he recalled it. “My dad’s voice was different, he sounded scared and then he began apologizing through his sobs about his not letting me live my life.” Daniel told me that he lost his sight that day and the ability to paint but that he was happier now than he has ever been. His relationship with his father changed for the better.

There are amazing lessons hidden in our tragedies that are waiting for us. I’m sure many of you have stories of transformation just as empowering as Daniel, yet, perhaps, not so desperate as to bring you to suicide. We are here to fully be ourselves and to allow others that same right; be an advocate for personal truth.


Mona McPherson