Sarah was depressed. Not for a day or two, but since 5 months. There was no reason for her depression. From the outside, nothing seemed to be shady. She had the perfect job in an ad agency. She was pretty, talented, smart and sensible. She had worked hard for the past 5 years in her job and she was a go-getter ever since she was a child. Sometimes, success makes you lonely and it was the same for Sarah. She was a loner. She never had friends. She never had a social life. She never interacted. She spoke less and kept to herself. But she was the best at work. Not that she never had the urge to make friends or share her deepest problems with anyone, she just felt she never had time for it. And by the time she felt that it was necessary for a friend, she had forgotten how to make one.
After attempting suicide a number of times in the past month, she realized that she needed a lot of courage. She finally decided to jump from the bridge near her house and end her life. It was a breezy winter evening. She wrote a suicide letter in black ink saying that no one was responsible for her death and folding it into two she gently placed it near the lamp on the study table. Latching the door, she decided to walk her way to death. All the memories from her childhood flashed before her eyes. She remembered her parents and her brother whom she loved so dearly. She pictured their faces when they would see her dead body. Nothing could stop her from choosing her destiny.
It was late in the night and the bridge was almost empty. She climbed on it and walked to the edge. Saying a small prayer, she said sorry. Turning around, she confirmed that no one was around. Gathering immense courage she pushed the lower half of her body to take a leap into the sea with open arms. It was as though she was embracing death. At that minute she felt a touch. She felt a hand clasp her. She felt touched. A quick shiver ran through her spine. She felt like a coward as she was caught doing the most dreadful thing.
“Hold on”, she found a male voice behind her.
“Do not jump!! I will hold you”, she turned to see who the savior was.
Behind her stood a young lad in his late 20’s, who stood there holding her hand in amazement. She turned and he was lost in a stare-off for 30 seconds. He helped her on the way down from the bridge and dropped her to her place without uttering a word. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them left each others hand as well. There was a strong unspoken conversation that had taken place with that touch.
The next morning, Sarah found a bouquet of flowers at her door with a small not in it. “Smile, for not everyone knows that he would live the next day” – Love, Roy
Roy stood below her balcony to wave her a good bye. This happened for a couple of days. Everyday there was a new note. Sarah didn’t make up her mind to speak to him. Finally one morning, when she opened the door instead of the usual flowers she found Roy standing.
“I just moved in as your neighbor a day ago. Can we be friends?” Roy tried to charm Sarah.
The reluctant Sarah finally opened the doors of friendship. She had found a friend, she had found a confidante and she had found the love of her life. A few months passed and Sarah and Roy were found walking by the bridge where they had first met. This place no longer haunted her anymore. She thanked God for having given her Roy. The touch of Roy’s hand reminded her everyday that there was hope in the life that she had lost. The touch brought her happiness and vanished her fears and depression. The touch rekindled her zest for life. It was the touch that brought life into her drooping existence.
This post is inspired by a topic at Indiblogger Happy Hours called #BringBackTheTouch http://www.pblskin.com/