About two years ago I witnessed something that changed my life.
I was walking passed a seated family when I noticed that amongst them was a severely disabled young boy. The boy was evidently mentally disabled, was seated in a wheelchair and didn’t appear to have control over his arms or legs. The boy’s mother was feeding him while his sisters watched on, smiling and seemingly appreciative despite their brother’s discomfort. Approximately two mouthfuls later, the boy started continuously throwing up on himself. Usually this kind of occurrence is extremely alarming to many of us, although the family had ostensibly grown accustomed to this occurrence, as they sat there hopeless and still. One of his sisters started to cry as her mother consoled her. The other sister sat there starring into the distance, and into her helpless surroundings. They wanted to help, but there was nothing that they could do. My stomach turned and my heart dropped. I felt sick for days just at the thought of the whole situation. Their life had come to the point where they could not enjoy a simple family outing and the boy could not simply feed himself. The look on the boy’s sister’s face is something that I will never ever forget. The look on her face, etched into my mind, awakens me to what is real, to how lucky I am, and to how much worse everything could be.