One day, many years ago, when I was working as psychologist(心理学家) in England, David was brought into my office. Without any words, his face was pale and he just looked at his own feet.
David lost his father when he was two years old and lived with his mother and grandfather. But at the age of 13, his grandfather died and then his mother was killed in a car accident. His teacher told me that he refused to talk to others from then on.
How could I help him?
David didn't say a word. As he was leaving, I put my hand on his shoulder. "Come back next week if you like." I said.
He came, and I invited him to play game of chess. He agreed. After that we played chess every Wednesday afternoon in complete silence. Little by little, he arrived earlier than agreed. It seemed as if he enjoyed my company. But why didn't he ever look at me?
"Perhaps he just needs someone to share his pain with." I thought.
Months later, when I was looking at his head, he suddenly looked up at me. "It's your turn," he said. After that day, David started talking. He finally got friends in school and he even joined bicycle club. He wrote letters to me some times. Now he had really started to live his life.
Maybe I gave David something. But I learned a lot from him. I learned how time makes it possible to overcome what seems to be painful. David showed me how one—without a word—can reach out to another person. All it takes is a shoulder to cry on, a friendly touch and an ear that listens.