Realities in Contrast.

A friend of mine recently did some research on the human eye as a part of his biology major. He explained to me (in the short, simple words I requested) how our eyes work and how they deliver a picture to our brains. One thing stood out to me in his description.

Without contrasts, we are blind.

The human eye relies on a basic system of contrasts to provide our spectrum of colors, shapes, and textures. I dont really understand how it all works--but the connection between contrast and clear vision struck me.

About four weeks ago, my uncle Dan died. My dad's younger brother was the picture of health, a vegetarian, a high school athletic trainer. His heart stopped on a Friday night as he fell asleep in his favorite chair.

My sister and I were in Missouri--a week into staff training at our summer camp. The camp director pulled me aside at lunch on Saturday to tell me there had been an emergency call from home.

An anniversary cruise limited my parents cell-phone reception, so my brother was the first person I could get on the phone. My sister and I waited as my brother prepared us for "really not good news."

News like that has a way of stealing your breath. We sat, stunned and breathless, waiting for our heads to clear. We decided to leave right away, and I walked down the gravel path towards the cabin to pack. Cabin nine was my home for the week, and I followed the familiar path, my head still reeling.

How could Uncle Dan be gone? I'd seen him two weeks before, alive as ever. He spent Mother's Day with us at Grandma and Grandpa's house. Leaves and gravel passed slowly beneath my feet. The same path I had walked all week seemed different. The same place, the same cabin--all somehow changed.

I spent a lot of time staring that day. All day, an empty feeling deadened my mind and senses. All day I thought, "Really?" We drove all evening, arriving at a hotel just after dark. The hotel was clean, air conditioned, and empty.

Sometime during that evening I remembered my friend's description of the eye. The eye relies on contrasts--without them, shapes and colors fade to black. So it seems to be with life.

Some realities in life must always be held in tension with the contrasting reality.

Life and Death, for example. We get accustomed to the reality of being alive. But we must not forget--it will not always be so. It is not until we realize that we will die that we will truly see life.

Two weeks ago, I was at my family's lakehouse--the realization of my late grandfather's dream. He and my grandmother have since passed away; unfortunately, my grandfather did not live to see the lakehouse finished. Grandma did, however, and I recently found myself in her favorite room, looking at the pictures of their life together. In particular, I found myself looking at their wedding picture.

My grandfather stands to the right of the wedding cake, in his dress Army uniform. My grandmother smiles vibrantly, foreshadowing the smile she would pass on to six daughters. Her dark hair and eyes imbue life into the picture. They stand together, smiling sweetly into the camera, enjoying the first moments of their marriage. And what moments they must have been!

Fast-forward seventy years. I stand in a quiet bedroom with a wooden floor and picture frames dotting the walls. Forty miles away, the couple rests in side-by-side burial plots. Standing in front of the picture, I contemplate the irony of my position. I am alive, contemplating the fact of death, looking at people who have died, but have no thought of anything but life. An appreciation of life slips through the irony.

The only remnant of their day is a faded, sepia-toned facade. But their experience was in vivid color.

Life will always boast more vibrant colors if we maintain a healthy respect for realities in contrast.