He hadn't truly seen, not for thousands of years. Most of the time, he never thought about it. He was sightless, after all, not blind.
Once a year, on the anniversary of that day, he locked himself into his house and took off his blindfold, the shield of a coward too ashamed to admit his failings and too afraid of what would happen if he told the truth.
Alone, unveiled, he closed off his other senses and walked through his house, truly blind. It was his reminder, his punishment, of his other blindness, the one that had cost him everything.