When I heard the music, I understood.
It was all there; the sadness and grief about losing his sight, right along with hopes and dreams for his future, for any future. The music hit my heart like an emotional wave, getting understanding on a deeper level for Torfinn; beyond the diagnosis in the medical books.
He had told us his story of Taekwondo, a story of hard physical training. He had told about his high grade as the first person with blindness. About a club that had embraced his wish to start a new sport, about this fear of people when the world went black.
He had locked himself into his room, mourning and grieving given the diagnosis; lucky to have parents allowing him to, he said.
In school he had spare hours, sitting in the hallway, staring at the wall.
One day an assistant stopped, asking him if he would like to learn to play the piano. With his success story from Taekwondoo, he dared to say yes.
It did not take Torfinn long to start composing his own music.
Getting into a new sport, he developed his own technique, knowing where the opponent was by listening to the sound of the clothing when they moved.
No one was prouder than him when he tried out for the Black Belt, and made the grade, but as important as the honour, was the friendship and family feeling in the club. He belonged.
By the time I knew my grandma she was almost blind. I was her eyes. But she took up weaving. It gave her the opportunity to express herself and connect with people. She belonged.
I was speechless after listening to this brave young man, living his life so fulfilled with new activities he had gotten into after his blindness.I was inspired and filled with hopes that others would meet people like the people Torfinn had met, making dreams come true by believing in them without questioning.