Two Hours of Pure Joy

Amidst all the mess, pain and difficulties of this weekend, there were two hours of absolute, unadulterated joy.

Two hours that I would not exchange for anything in the world.

I live with Progressive Supranuclear Palsy, or PSP, a progressive neurological illness that increasingly affects my movement, vision and ability to communicate. But I want to share these two hours because, amidst all the horrible things it brings into my life, there are still moments of extraordinary happiness. Moments that remind me that there are wonderful things to look forward to, things worth fighting for and, above all, things worth living for.

On Friday afternoon, I spent two hours learning Talmud with my 16-year-old daughter studying for a test this morning.

That might not sound particularly exciting to everyone. Two hours discussing a few pages of ancient Jewish text, debating interpretations and arguments, and challenging each other’s understanding. Hardly everyone’s idea of a thrilling Friday afternoon.

But for me, it was magnificent.

My daughter is in her final years of school. She is bright, thoughtful, intellectually curious and increasingly confident in her own opinions. She enjoys a good argument, particularly when she thinks she can win it. I have absolutely no idea where she gets that from.

We sat together, one-to-one, discussing the Talmud. Not simply me teaching her, explaining things or helping her understand something difficult. We were genuinely learning together, as a chavruta, a study partnership. Challenging each other. Debating interpretations. Questioning assumptions. Arguing our positions.

And something extraordinary happened.

I realised, if I didn’t already know it, that I was looking at a young woman. An independent thinker. Someone with her own intellect, her own arguments, her own understanding and her own ability to challenge mine.

Someone I could engage with as an equal.

It was one of those moments in parenthood that I suspect you never forget.

Of course, I have always loved my daughter and been immensely proud of her, as I am of all my kids. But this was different. I was discovering a new dimension to our relationship, one in which we could genuinely enjoy each other’s intellectual company.

And I loved every minute of it.

There was something particularly beautiful about the fact that we were learning Talmud. A text built around questions, disagreements, arguments and the search for understanding. Generations of people challenging one another’s reasoning, trying to get closer to the truth.

And there I was, doing precisely that with my daughter.

I cannot adequately describe the pride I felt. Not simply because she understood the material, but because of how she thought. How she questioned. How she argued. How she refused to accept something merely because her father said it.

Quite right too.

For those two hours, I was not thinking about PSP.

I was not thinking about my wheelchair, my eyes, my pain, my inability to communicate at times, my freezing episodes or any of the other increasingly unpleasant things that have become part of my daily existence.

I was simply a father, spending time with his daughter, enjoying her company and marvelling at the person she is becoming.

And I was completely, wonderfully happy.

There is still joy. Real joy. Not manufactured positivity or an attempt to put a brave face on something terrible. Genuine, spontaneous, overwhelming happiness.